


This Head I Hold

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, BDSM, Bottom Castiel, Dom Dean, Dom/sub, Domestic, M/M, Romance, Sub Castiel, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is broke, unemployed, and about to lose his home for the second time in as many years. Needless to say, he can't turn down a job offer working for Dean Winchester - no matter how much he wants to. But it turns out to be nothing he expected, and everything he never knew he needed.</p><p>INCOMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Filled for a [prompt](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/73050.html?thread=25814362#t25814362) on the kink meme.

 

Castiel had all the bills spread out in front of him and he felt a little sick.

The Internet was already cut off - that was one of the first things he had to go without, and so far it had actually been pleasant walking to the library to use free WiFi and charge his ancient laptop - but he didn't think he could go without electricity or water or gas. He couldn't look for work without his phone service, either. But something had to go.

In the end, he picked up the heating bill. Winter would be setting in soon but he had clothes and blankets. He could cut back on that easily. In fact, he probably should have done it sooner.

Then there was the rent.

The money his uncle had 'lent' him - that is, with a terrifying amount of interest involved - was running too short and Cas was already a month behind rent. The landlord was sending him mildly threatening emails, and Cas had made lots of promises about getting it all in on time this month, and he seriously didn't know what he'd do if he got evicted, and...

He couldn't think about it anymore. He placed everything back down, pushed it across to the side of the table, and went back to flipping through the newspaper he pilfered from a McDonald's. (No harm done in saving a few more cents that way; it wasn't as if  _they_  couldn't afford a new one, he had reasoned to himself over and over.) All this planning and thinking was useless when he still needed to find work first.

Thus, it was back to the job ads.

They were all mostly things he couldn't do, as much as he hated to admit it. He'd already tried the usual entry level jobs, and had no luck. Besides, every fast food and retail chain in the area had stopped hiring thanks to the influx of college-student hopefuls that came with every new school year and always filled up the cold calling list almost immediately. He could have tried elsewhere, in a neighbourhood that wasn't filled with universities and community colleges that mocked him with their proximity and high costs. But going anywhere further out than this neighbourhood, he wasn't sure he'd be able to afford the constant bus or train fares.

Ad after ad, his confidence chipped away and he wished more than ever that burying himself back under the bedsheets was a viable option.

That was when his eye caught on one little square in the corner of the page.

 _Seeking houseboy,_  he read,  _Responsibilities include: general housekeeping, cleaning, attending to guests, and personally assisting master of the house. All accommodation and meals provided. Please contact --_

It was worth a shot. He was dialling the number before he even realised he'd picked up the phone.

As it rang, he reread the ad a few times - it didn't actually say how much he'd be paid, of course, but the housing and food alone were enough to make him jump to apply. And besides, it was only housekeeping. Surely it could be no different to what he already did for himself.

It was only the first day this ad had appeared (he'd know, he'd picked apart every line of the Classifieds for jobs for weeks now), so perhaps - hopefully - no one else had applied yet.

The dial tone finally stopped ringing and he heard a low voice on the other end. "Hello, Dean Winchester speaking."

"Good morning, my name is Castiel Milton and I wish to enquire about your advert in the newspaper," he answered, the words rolling off his tongue after so much practice.

"Alright," Dean said after a pause. "I wasn't expecting a call so soon. Why don't you come by this evening so we can discuss it in more detail?"

“Of course, I’d be more than happy to. If you could give me the address...” Castiel rushed to reply, mildly surprised Dean hadn't asked for his résumé first but far too keen for an interview to care.

“You want to meet at the house?” Dean sounded surprised, much to Cas’ confusion. Wasn’t that the normal thing to do? He didn’t know where else they would meet, and apparently interviews were supposed to be a two-way street, so he’d have liked to make sure he hadn’t signed up to be the lone cleaner of a sprawling ten-storey hotel establishment.

But Cas was desperate, so he said, "I-if that doesn't suit you, I can..."

Dean tutted and continued, while Cas fretted and paced as far as the phone cord would allow, all out of sheer nerves. “There’s a restaurant off the highway called the Roadhouse. I’ll be there at eight, then if you want to see the house we can go there later. That suit you?”

Of course he agreed at lightning speed. What else could he do?

 

 

The diner was... he wouldn't describe it as quaint, not with the huge muscled-up truckers built like brick walls buzzing around the place, but it was a cosy-enough Western-themed place with wooden bartops and leather seats.

He clutched his documents tight in his hand and tried not to feel so horribly out of place in his cheap suit, among all the black leather jackets and flannel shirts. There was a bar to one side of the room and the young blonde making drinks there leaned over to talk to him. He looked away quickly, trying to avoid conversation, because this job interview was more than enough social interaction for one night and he was already anxious enough that he worried he'd start speaking nonsense if he tried to have any other discourse at all.

"Hey, you look kinda lost. Can I get you anything?" the bartender chirped at him when Cas accidentally looked her way again, distracting him from his search for a man whose face he didn't actually know. She looked relaxed, cheerful, and not one bit like she'd been on this shift for hours already.

"No thank you," Cas answered politely before his eyes spun away back towards the clientele, "I can't drink yet. I'm looking for Dean Winchester."

"You're an honest one, huh? Saves me the bother of carding you," she grinned, then shrugged and nodded over to a booth near the wall, private but not secluded either. "Dean's over there. He told me he'd be waiting for someone, so I guess that's you."

Cas scrambled away with a quick thanks, pushing through the crowd that had just come in the door with no small difficulty.

That was how he first saw Dean, sitting at the table frowning at something he'd read on his phone, tapping away at the buttons like the overtime workaholic Cas could already pin him as. Across the room, their eyes met, and Cas could feel his face reddening like he'd been caught at making that assumption. Dean simply nodded, then waved him over to where he sat.

Cas rounded the booth, all ready to stick out his hand and introduce himself like a good little candidate. Dean shook it, firm and professional, then they sat down on opposite sides of the booth, Cas stumbling over his own feet in the process. He tried not to look as nervous as he felt, but he was far from sure that it worked.

"Well, hello, Castiel. Good to meet you. Doing well?" Dean asked, opening his hands in front of him on the table as if in welcome.

"Yes, thank you." Cas answered stiffly and took his papers out from where he'd hidden them - along with his hands - under the table. "I brought a copy of my résumé and cover letter, since I didn't get a chance to send it to you earlier."

Dean looked surprised, which, again, was odd. It would exactly be like Cas' luck that all the online job search advice pages had been lying and Dean just happened to be the first employer to actually inform him that, actually, all the rules had changed since Cas' middle school work experience program and in fact you were  _not_  supposed to bring a copy of everything to your interviews. Whatever it was, what he knew for sure was that résumés didn't usually get this kind of reaction.

But Dean's reply did put him at ease, a little. "So you came prepared. That's good to see," he smiled, and he did look genuinely impressed.

He slipped it away from Cas' hands, skimmed through it with an occasional frown, then...

All of Cas' worry returned the instant Dean lay it down at the side of the table, not dismissive but not particularly interested either.

Castiel was dead confused, and it had to have shown on his face. He must've written something wrong. Had he even checked that he brought the right documents? What if it was actually, oh, he didn't know, his electricity bill or something? He swallowed and tried not to panic. Not too obviously, at least.

"Thank you for bringing this in for me, but you understand that this isn't the type of work that generally requires a professional résumé - that is, not one of this kind?" Dean asked slowly, watching Cas with the slightest knit between his eyebrows. "Do you have a list of limits, usual safewords, preferences... past experience as a submissive?"

As a... what?

"I - I thought I was applying to be your houseboy?" Cas stuttered. Half the words Dean just spouted at him made no sense at all - Limits? Safewords? Preferences?  _Submissive_? The only thing he could think of was extremely kinky sex, and he was quite certain Dean wasn't talking about that. Right?

"You are," Dean said, voice firm, "Which is why you need to tell me what they are, either on paper," - he nodded pointedly at the résumé - "or in person, if you want to negotiate that together. You know, whatever you're comfortable with. You haven't done this before?"

"I  _have_  done housework before, yes," Cas retorted, sullen and humiliated for no reason at all. It wasn't  _his_  fault Dean suddenly started speaking gibberish.

Dean, too, looked confused and frustrated for just a split second before -- suddenly, understanding cleared his face, and he laughed. Too bad Cas  _still_   had no idea what was going on, or if this is some kind of prank or --

"Well, shit. I should've been clearer from the beginning," Dean said, still chuckling and looking more exasperated than mildly frustrated now, brushing a hand through light brown hair. The creases around his eyes disappeared into smile lines from one blink to the next. "Cas," - and Castiel certainly did  _not_  perk up at the casual nicknaming - "I'm not just looking for someone who can do the laundry. I'm looking for a full-time sub, someone who can look after the house and be there to serve me when I get back from work each night. I hope that puts us on the same page now."

"Serve you in what -- oh. You're talking about sex." Cas was trying very hard not to keep his jaw from just dropping open. He was in shock. Definitely in shock. Granted, this was a lot better than accidentally applying to sell a kidney or something like that, but it was still far too bizarre for him.

"That doesn't always have to be a part of it, but yes, that is one of my expectations. However," Dean said, enunciating the word and holding Cas' eye before he continued, "That  _is_  something we can work out together. I'm not interested in forcing anyone into this, which means we're gonna need to talk about it and make some arrangements either way."

That was definitely a comfort, said Cas' first thought, and then  _no no no_ , he mentally kicked himself because there was no way he was still  _considering_  this employment offer, was there? He should have apologised and ran for it the moment he discovered what  _houseboy_  really meant here.

Dean sat back and let Cas mull it over for a moment, and for the first time - now that this interview had taken a very decidedly  _sexual_ turn - Cas let himself fully consider just how attractive the man sitting opposite him was. Not just in an aesthetically pleasing way, although no one could have denied that. No, it was more than that, if Cas allowed himself to think that way; the strikingly green eyes, perfectly symmetrical features, freckles that would look boyish if not for the extremely sleek suit with just the right amount of casual unbuttoning outside of the office and --

Castiel was staring. Quite a lot.

Dean was still so  _businesslike_  about the whole thing, as if he hadn't just told Cas he was essentially looking for a live-in boy-toy-cross-maid that he'd be paying to have sex with.

Could  _Cas_  be that live-in boy-toy-cross-maid? Would he be willing to have sex for money - something that even he understood to be a definite game-changer - even if it would be with someone who looked as objectively pleasant as Dean did?

"I know this is a surprise for you, but if you want to have this position, it's yours. I'll give you a copy of a sample contract and a few forms to fill out, and if you're still interested, let me know by tomorrow evening." Across the table, Dean slid a small stack of papers, with a business card on top, over to Cas. "As for your pay, the current offer is twenty grand a month plus food and accommodation. But that's something we can talk about later too."

Well. After hearing that, Cas was ready to accept right there on the spot.

 _Twenty thousand a month_ , plus he'd get a place to live, free of rent, all bills paid; it would be  _more_  than enough for him to live on! He could easily pay his uncle back, interest and all, given a month or two. He could start actually having money in his savings, and  _significant_  money too, in practically no time at all. He could  _go back to school_ , and now that the idea had been planted in his mind, now that it actually felt like a possibility, he didn't think there was anything he wouldn't do to get it.

His entire life was right there in front of him. And all he had to do to get it was agree to Dean's contract.

But before he could say a word, Dean told him with the tone of the not-to-be-argued-with, "Think about it, Cas. I do want to hire you, but I need you to go into this seriously first. I know you're new to this and I will teach you what you need to know, but you need to be clear about what you're doing."

Then, abruptly, the meeting was over. Dean excused himself - he needed to head back to prepare things for work or something, Cas wasn't sure because there had been some reference to rat races that he didn't quite understand thrown in there - and then Cas was alone, with a small pile of paperwork to read through and a flutter in his stomach that could have been excitement, nerves or just plain hunger.

 

 

No, it wasn't hunger - at least, not now that Cas was back home and actually eating something. Jo, the bartender, had shoved a warm takeaway container in his direction as he left and told him Dean had bought it for him. "You look like you need it too, you skinny little waif," Jo had grinned.

Now home, sitting in the living-cross-dining room alone, he scoffed down the beef stroganoff and steamed vegetables with absolute gusto, glad no one was around to see him - because table manners, these were  _not_.

Previously - after skipping lunch when nothing looked affordable, and then completely forgetting about dinner during his interview with Dean - he hadn't realised how  _ravenous_  he was. But now that it was eleven o'clock and Cas had proper food in front of him, his stomach apparently had no qualms about letting the world know just how neglected it felt.

Heavens above, the beef was really  _good._

He speared some more of it onto his fork, together with the pasta, and stared outside, not really seeing the view behind the glass.

Of course, he couldn't stop thinking about Dean's offer. Everything was already calculated in his head. Without the need to buy groceries, rent a house, or pay the bills, he could save up almost everything - maybe a bit for emergencies on the side - and pay off his whole debt in just under two months. After that... another month or two and he'd have plenty enough to get started at college if he played his cards right. So that was only four months of flat-out saving. Another month in addition, and he'd have enough to start looking for another place to live, and another job - albeit definitely one that'd pay less - and he'd be back on track again. He wouldn't even be with Dean for half a year.

Because, as much as Cas knew he wouldn't terribly mind having...  _sex_ with Dean (the thought alone makes him blush in his seat and dig into his pasta with a little less fervor), he wasn't sure he really wanted to think about what kind of things Dean must be into, to be willing to pay that much. Not just in dollar signs, but in accommodation, food, utilities... There must have been a reason why Dean could have a face like  _that_  and a personality like  _that_  and still have to pay someone to be his boyfriend.

He knew it was cruel of him to make such assumptions, about someone who could be his boss no less, but...

He was scared. He was freaked out and he was nervous and if he was really going to sign up for this, he should at least try to mentally prepare himself for sex dungeons and hardcore bondage before it inevitably happened.

Just like that, he wasn't hungry any more. He closed the plastic lid back over the container and slotted it away in the fridge, then stared at the pile of paper Dean gave him until it burnt a hole in the back of his eyelids when he blinked.

He'd already skimmed through the bulk of the contract. Most of it was basic employment stuff: pay rates, benefits (at this point, Cas was surprised he wasn't getting  _dental insurance_ thrown in too), an incredibly generous amount of free time. The way he understood it, as long as he got through all the house tasks Dean assigned to him, he could have all the free time he wanted. On top of that, he'd have two completely free days each week - by default, on Tuesday and Thursday, although he could arrange to swap them for weekends when he needed to.

The only definite times that he had to be in the house were from six o'clock each evening until the next morning, with eight hours a day on weekends. Considering they'd be sleeping for a good chunk of that time, and even assuming housework took upwards of three hours each day, Cas wasn't actually working for more than forty hours a week.

But the  _type_  of work he'd be doing...

He didn’t know. He had to think about it.

It was promising to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

In the end, Cas did phone Dean back, and that was how he found himself standing at the doorstep of the house, knowing all too well that if his new employer turned out to be a serial killer or a kidnapper there would be little chance of escape anymore. The last bus had long since disappeared behind him.

He brought his knuckles up to the heavy wooden door, hesitated, then knocked. There was no turning back now.

“Heya, Cas.” Dean appeared at the door a second later, waving Cas inside with a smile that instantly put him at ease – or at least, relieved a fraction of the tension running up his spine. “Ready to start your trial week?”

A trial week. That was all it was, Cas told himself. Officially, it was some time to get to know each other and find out if the arrangement suited them both, with the freedom to terminate at any time and the promise that it would be fully paid. However, Cas knew what it really meant: seven days to prove to Dean that he was a fast learner, that he _could_ do this work, that he was actually willing to sell his body for whatever Dean wanted him to do.

Dean could change the words around however he liked, but essentially, it was true.

The only real comfort was that no matter what happened, at least he’d be getting five grand in pay for this week alone.

“You did tell someone you’d be coming here, didn’t you?” Dean asked, following up the request he’d given during their phone conversation.

“Yes,” he lied. He didn’t know why Dean was being so adamant about having a… a ‘safe call’, as he’d said. It made about as much sense as checking he could recite the Fair Work Act, which in Cas’ experience was something every employer generally wished their minimum wage labour knew zilch about.

Cas shuffled in the door, overnight bag in hand, and followed Dean into the study, unable to stop gaping at the antique-style furnishings scattered among the usual modern utilities. It felt like he’d stepped into a James Bond movie.

“First things first,” Dean said as they sat down across a polished cedar desk, “I know you’ve already got a copy of a contract but like I said, it’s a sample. I’d prefer ironing out the details together, just to make sure we all know what’s going on.”

Cas nodded, still staring around at the shelves full of books and – to his mild concern – a shining metal rifle that decorated one corner of the room.

“Family heirloom,” Dean coughed, and Cas returned his attention to the task at hand with a sheepish apology. “Now, if you’re comfortable with the working hours…”

“Um, the – Oh. Yes, they’re fine with me.”

“That’s good to hear. And we’ve already talked about the pay, so that’s sorted too. How about the basics, then?”

“You mean the safewords?” Cas guessed, secretly proud his tongue hadn’t tripped over the unfamiliar syllables.

Dean seemed pleased. “I know you’re new to this, so I’ll explain. They’re absolutely necessary in any arrangement like ours, whether we’re having sex or not. Basically, it’s an emergency stop button. Any time you’re working for me, and you need things to end for any reason whatsoever, just say it and it’ll happen.”

That was… extremely comforting, actually. A little more of the tension bled out of Cas’ shoulders. He’d heard of safewords before, but all he’d known were crude and understandably terrifying jokes about not needing them. This was completely different, and goodness was he thankful for it.

But then he had to admit: “I, uh, don’t have one. A safeword. I don’t know how to choose one, and I didn’t know if…”

To his great relief, Dean only shrugged. “I thought not, but no problem. We’ll have a simple colour system. Red green yellow, does that suit you?”

Cas nodded. Of course it did.

“Now, red means stop, obviously. As I said, you say that as soon as things get too much, and we’ll wrap things up immediately. Yellow means slow down, dial it back, that sort of thing. And of course, green means that everything’s fine.”

“I understand,” he nodded again, feeling a little like a bobble-head in a moving car. It was like traffic lights, easy and obvious. He could do this, he told himself. Everything would be fine.

If it was possible, Dean’s face turned even more serious, his features going stony. “That’s good. I know it sounds basic, but I need to make sure you’re safe under this roof. You don’t seem the type to mess around, but I’m still going to be absolutely clear about this: The safeword is sacred. Don’t joke with it, don’t misuse it, and _always_ say it the _moment_ things go bad.”

“I will.” A nervous breath caught in Cas’ throat and he swallowed, anxiety creeping up on him. How bad could things get, for Dean to treat it so seriously? What if he’d really gotten in too far over his head here?

Dean seemed to notice, and his expression softened. “It sounds scary, yeah. But it’s necessary and believe me, we’ll both have a lot more fun knowing we have an out.”

Fun. Sure. Cas forced a smile.

It must have looked terrible, because Dean leaned forward to catch Cas’ eye. “Hey, you’re alright with this, aren’t you?” he asked, voice low, and his hand reached out for Cas’ shoulder before he apparently thought better of it.

Cas’ stomach dropped. “Of course. I’m fine. Sorry, this is just… new, that’s all,” he blurted quickly, straightening up in his seat. What was he doing, acting like this? At this rate Dean would fire him before the day was even out.

“Alright, well…” Dean rubbed a hand over his chin, then came to some unseen decision. “Why don’t we go over the daily chores you’ll be doing? That sound good?”

Yes, that sounded _very_ good. That was something Cas could definitely deal with. His relief must have shown on his face, because Dean gave him a friendly grin in return.

“Awesome. Now first of all, there are the usual daily tasks. You’ll need to make the bed, keep the kitchen clear, and clean up around the house. That means basic vacuuming and dusting. As long as the place looks neat when I get home, I’ll be happy. Then there are the weekly chores – taking out the trash, doing the laundry every few days, and doing a full clean of each room. I’ll leave you to work out your own routine with those.”

After a while he could almost imagine he was working a normal job, just being Dean’s maid and taking care of the house while he was gone. He let Dean’s voice wash over him, taking mental notes as he went.

“Sometimes I’ll need you to do some filing work for me, just organising old reports and keeping everything in order,” Dean went on, “And there will be particular tasks I’d like you to do occasionally. When that happens, I’ll leave a note for you in the living room. If you ever have a question about what to do, you can call my cell during my lunch hour, or wait until I return. The landline will be fine. Don’t worry about remembering all this, I’ll give you a proper contract later. Also, sometimes there will be guests, who – “

Guests. With fear spiking through him, Cas opened his mouth to interrupt, then shut it again quickly, but Dean saw and waved a hand at him, letting him speak.

“Your ad in the paper, it said… I’ll have to _attend_ to guests? Does that mean…?” He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he was sure Dean would understand. The illusion of this being an ordinary housekeeping role was well and truly broken now, with the direction that Cas’ concerns were heading. Was he expected to have sex with them too? If not sex, then certainly there would be _other_ things Dean might want him to do for them, and Cas wasn’t – he didn’t want – he wasn’t…

“No.” Dean stopped that thought in its tracks with one firm word. He even looked on the edge of recoiling at the mere idea of it, which – well, Cas was glad for it. “Anything you do for guests will be strictly as a host, never as a submissive. That’s one of my hard limits, so if any of them _do_ try to push you into something sexual, you need to tell me.”

“Oh.” Oh _thank god_ , was actually what he wanted to say. But that might have been rude. He felt a little stupid for thinking Dean might want to more-or-less pimp him out to his acquaintances, but…

“You’ll only need to greet them, make sure they have drinks, prepare some food if they’re coming for a meal. I shouldn’t have led you to think you’d serve them in any other way.” He looked so genuinely guilty that Cas wanted to shrivel up and hide.

“No, it’s… I have an overactive imagination, that’s all.” Cas tried to shrug it off, but he couldn’t quite shake the terrified adrenaline that had first surged through him at the thought.

“It’s fine. Any time you’re worried about something, you need to tell me. That _is_ an order.” Those final four words were like sparks through Cas’ spine, and they served as a reminder of what he was really signing up for.

He glanced down at the inset leather on the desk and swallowed, equal parts guilty and shy. Here Dean was, taking the time to go through his entire contract with him and teaching him everything he had to know, and Cas was jumping all over the place with false accusations, still thinking of him as some kind of evil predatory dungeon-master when every sign pointed to the total opposite. So far the ‘trial week’ had gone terribly, and it’d only been an hour at the most. He’d been awkward and unenthusiastic, and was completely untrained to boot. He didn’t know how Dean was putting up with him, but he knew he had to try to fix his first impression somehow.

“What about… what about my work as your, um…?” he asked, voice trailing off as he realised he had no idea what the word was. Surely Dean had to be keen to get started on that topic of conversation. Bringing it up like this, he hoped it would make himself seem keen too; a little less childish and a little more prepared.

It was no surprise Dean wasn’t convinced. Cas had never been a good actor. “There _are_ some things I’d like to talk about, sure, but that’s not going to be our first priority. Let’s be honest, you’re not ready for it yet and you still have a lot to learn before we get into anything heavy.”

Cas let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and looked away from Dean in what felt a lot like shame. He still had no idea why Dean was bothering with keeping him, when surely there had to be no shortage of willing and experienced houseboys ready to take his place. He wanted to learn, he _did,_ but it felt like he would never get there.

When he looked up again, Dean had stood from his desk to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Come on, you must be tired. That was probably too much to take in at once. I’ll show you around the house, then you can get some sleep.”

 

 

 

Cas lay alone on his own bed that night, not bothering to tuck himself under the sheets. His bag sat abandoned in the corner near the closet, still unpacked even though he’d never voluntarily leave no matter how much of a nightmare this job turned out to be.

A few hours earlier, when he was preparing to arrive here, he wouldn’t have dared to dream of being alone tonight. He’d imagined staying in Dean’s room, impelled by his contract to share close quarters with a near-total stranger. He’d imagined all kinds of horrors, things like iron manacles and tight collars and whips and chains for which no amount of Dean’s handsome face could make bearable.

Now, in the aftermath of Dean’s strict professionalism and caring words, he didn’t know whether to be suspicious or just plainly grateful. He still felt stupid, though, especially after psyching himself up for all kinds of torture only to be greeted with… well, _Dean_.

It had only been one day though, he reminded himself. Things were pleasant now but caution said that no one knew how long that would last.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Today, he’d earned over $700 just by turning up and sticking around. Tomorrow, he’d earn the same for doing chores that he always did anyway. The day after that, maybe Dean would finally show him what being a submissive actually meant.

He didn’t know if he was excited, anxious, scared… probably all three, plus more. There was just something about Dean that made Cas want to do _anything_ to keep him happy, and it wasn’t – probably wasn’t – just the generous wages.

Truth be told, Dean was the best boss he’d ever had so far, and it had only been a day. Any of his other managers would have kicked him to the curb long ago, opting for the next highschooler or fresh graduate in line for a job in a heartbeat. The precarious economy, having a business to run, et cetera, et cetera. It was a miracle Cas had found this job at all, with someone willing to both tolerate his inexperience and teach him everything he had to know, and he was determined to keep it while he could. But no one’s patience could last forever, which meant that tomorrow, he’d have to prove himself to Dean tenfold.

He had to be a good investment, after all. He had to be useful.


	3. Chapter 3

The next two days passed in a blur. A confusing, hectic blur that was surprisingly frustrating when Cas realised Dean wasn't about to so much as touch him until he finished reading every single webpage Dean had handpicked and listed as _For Cas_ in the bookmarks bar. Bizarrely cheerful alliterative titles like  _BDSM for Beginners_ and  _Subbing Safely!_ were quickly filling up the history on the laptop Dean had entrusted to him for his homework.

He never got that chance to prove himself to Dean, not when there was something like a brick wall (named  _For Cas)_ between the housework and the... other work he was here to do, like an achievement he still needed to unlock before the next level.

But after doing so much reading, having gone through almost the entire list now, he felt ready. He honestly did. Everything he’d read said that it didn’t have to be terrifying at all. Actually, it wasn’t even _supposed_ to be terrifying. It wasn’t even all about sex, or tying people up, or getting spanked. Instead it looked to be a lifestyle that stemmed out of trust and emotional highs more than anything else. The more he discovered, the more things made sense and the more he began to realise why anyone would want to have this kind of life for its own sake.

And everything Dean said and did matched up with the information he’d pieced together from these sites; safe, sane, and consensual was the law.

With that now in mind, it was like his reluctantly-quashed attraction to Dean had been given permission to go absolutely wild. When he saw Dean fixing his tie in the bathroom by chance on the second morning, he couldn’t stop thinking about it all day – constantly replaying the neat, efficient movements of his hands as they pulled the knot up exactly right, the subtle flex of muscle as he straightened his shirt, and the best part, the smile and sly wink as he walked past Cas to let him have the shower.

Heaven help him, he _really_ wanted to stay with Dean.

Unfortunately, between the ironing, dusting, dishes, and tidying, all Cas could do to show his dedication was to cook _._ Not that it was a bad thing. The beam that always settled on Dean's face when he saw the plates laid out on the dining table after work... it had to be one of the most wonderful sights Cas had ever seen.

It was no different tonight, when he rushed to open the door and greet Dean. The pasta was still cooling on the table, with the laptop sitting a safe distance beside it. It had taken almost three days, but Cas had finished up all his reading, the knowledge now tucked safely away in his mind.

Dean looked tired, but the moment he laid eyes on Cas his eyes crinkled into a grin, and Cas felt like his heart had swelled into his throat. It was more than simply flattering to be able to lift someone’s mood like that. It made him feel liked, cared for, maybe even treasured. And on a more economical level, it made him fairly certain of keeping his job after this trial week was over, too.

“Smells great,” Dean said as he dropped his briefcase in the master bedroom, unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and loosened his tie, Cas unable to take his eyes off the smooth movements. “What are we having today?”

“Chicken and mushroom tortellini with bacon,” Cas answered with a hint of pride. It was just pasta, and pasta that came out of one of the many frozen packets lining Dean’s freezer no less, but it was one of the more complex meals he knew how to make.

“Awesome.” Dean sounded like he truly meant it. “You’re spoiling me, Cas. I’m gonna turn into a blimp at this rate.”

When they moved to the dining room, Dean’s eye caught on the laptop and he glanced at Cas with an unfamiliar glint in his eye. “Already done with all your reading? Wow, you’re a good boy.”

Cas tittered and blushed. “Does that mean we’ll… be doing other things now?” He didn’t know when he’d started looking forward to this, rather than dreading it.

Dean’s eyes looked him up and down, and the shiver that went down his spine was not at all unpleasant. He wondered what Dean was seeing in him – did he look every bit as nervously eager as he felt, silently hoping that Dean would say yes?

“Go to the living room and bring back one of the cushions,” Dean said after a moment of thought.

Cas’ heart thudded harder in his chest, until he swore he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He nodded and left, picking out one of the throw pillows scattered across the couch at random. What Dean was planning, he had no idea, but he knew he trusted the man well enough to go with it this time. Red green yellow, he reminded himself, then walked back into the dining room. Dean was already seated at the table in front of his plate.

“Where would you like me?” Cas asked, cautious and polite. The atmosphere in the room had definitely changed, shifted to something intense that gave him an excited thrill.

“Where would you like me, _sir_ ,” Dean corrected with a stern look, voice calm and steady. “Beside me, on the floor. Kneel on the pillow.”

“Yes, sir.” Cas bowed his head, trying to hide the blush that had rushed to his face as he obeyed. He placed the cushion down and folded his legs underneath him, thankful for the soft cotton under his knees. He felt small beside Dean’s chair, looking up at him from below as he sat up straight, hands folded in his lap.

“Good.” Dean reached down to stroke his hair, almost soothing. “Colour?”

Cas blinked, confused for a second, before he remembered and breathed, “Green.”

“Very fast learner. That’s good, I like it.” The praise washed over him like a warm blanket. “Hands behind your back. Eyes closed.”

A small nervous breath shuddered out of Cas’ lungs, but he held his wrists behind his back as he was told. His eyelids fluttered shut and he waited, hearing the clink of cutlery on the plate above him.

“I wish you could see how you look right now,” Dean said, voice soft. “I’m going to feed you now. Open your mouth, keep your eyes closed.”

Cas let his lips part, then opened up a fraction wider as he felt something touch his bottom lip. A moment later the taste of the rich pasta hit his tongue and despite his instinct to chew, he let it sit until Dean nudged his mouth with the edge of two fingers.

Before, when he was cooking, he’d secretly feared the meal would be too plain, something out of a packet mixed with a boring sauce. But now, maybe with the endorphins already rushing through him and the laser focus on every sensation, it was one of the best things he’d ever eaten.

He heard Dean chuckle, probably in response to the expression he must have had on his face after eating just one piece. Then there was a hand on his face, cradling his jaw and running a skin-rough thumb over his cheek. “You shouldn’t look so surprised. This tastes amazing.”

Cas’ face flushed. “But it’s only…”

With his eyes closed, the finger that Dean placed on his lips made him jerk a little in surprise. “I’m not lying to you, Cas. Just say thank you.”

“Thank you,” Cas mumbled, embarrassed, before quickly adding, “Sir.”

“That’s a good boy. Here, open your mouth again.”

Dean fed him another piece, and the next few minutes passed in silence, punctuated only by pleased sighs from Dean as he alternated between eating and giving Cas another bite. The anxious knot that had sat in Cas’ stomach had long dissolved away into something oddly comfortable, kneeling by Dean’s side as they ate.

Dean’s hand combed through his hair and he broke the silence. “Sit to the side, before your knees start to hurt.”

It was a bit of a mess trying to rearrange himself with his hands still behind his back and eyes carefully closed, since Dean hadn’t told him to move them yet. But he got there in the end without accidentally losing the pillow.

“Just started and you’re already perfect at this,” Dean said, the smile audible in his voice alone. “Didn’t move your hands, didn’t open your eyes. I didn’t even have to tell you.”

Cas preened under the attention, proud of how pleased Dean was. Far from being incompetent and inept, it was like, for the first time in what might have been _months_ , he could really do something and be good at it. He didn’t think of himself as petty or sensitive, but hearing Dean’s words were… nice. Sitting on a pillow with eyes closed while Dean pampered and fed him, and paid him compliments, it was difficult to remember he was really here to work.

They ate on in another comfortable silence until both bowls were empty, having eaten half each. There was a pause while Cas indulged in those gentle fingers still combing through his hair, curling loose strands back behind his ear and smoothing out the finer tangles. He let out a quiet breath that came out as a pleased purr and tilted his head back, shifting a little as he resisted the urge to rest his head on Dean’s lap.

Then, all of a sudden, the hand in his hair disappeared and Dean slid his chair back, jolting Cas out of his reverie.

“Alright, time to wake up,” he said abruptly, clearing his throat as Cas blinked up at him, “There are dishes to do, and things to discuss. Can’t fall behind schedule.”

“Oh. Right. I apologise.” Cas leapt to his feet and scrambled to collect the dishes, crushing down the hurt that had blossomed in his chest without warning. It was childish, anyway. Staying in Dean’s house wasn’t a vacation.

He scrubbed at the plates until they shone, and was about to place them down on the side of the sink when Dean appeared beside him out of nowhere.

“Here, I’ll dry them.” He eased the plates and cutlery out of Cas’ hands and began running the dishtowel over them, not meeting his eyes. He looked almost… embarrassed, for reasons Cas couldn’t fathom. But it did make Cas feel better about Dean’s quick dismissal.

“What was it you wanted to talk about?” Cas asked after Dean put the last fork away in its drawer.

“We should go discuss it in the study. Now that you’ve got the basics of being a sub, we can finish up the contract. That is, unless you want more time to digest all the information.”

“Okay. I don’t mind doing it now,” Cas stuttered, nerves returning. It was clear what Dean was getting at. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it, even before he’d started going through that list of bookmarks on Dean’s laptop. How could he? It was true that now he was more comfortable with it – now that he knew the reality of being someone’s submissive – but there was no way to escape the truth that this wasn’t something free and romantic. This was his _job_.

Better that it was Dean than anyone else, though. Here, with Dean, he could easily pretend it was separate from his employment; something he did because he wanted it, with no strings attached. It didn’t take much self-honesty to admit that had he met Dean outside of a job ad, assuming he had the means to have any kind of social life at all, he would have happily started a relationship with the man. Even more so now that he knew how kind Dean was, and how much effort he was willing to make to help Cas through.

“You sure you’re okay with it? We can always do it later, you know,” Dean asked, hand on Cas’ shoulder to recapture his attention.

“No, it’s fine. Now is fine. Really.”

 

 

 

An hour and a half later, sitting across the desk from each other as they had the very first day Cas spent in Dean’s house, he saw just how much of a blessing it was that he’d had so much time to consider things. Three days ago, he would have looked at these rules and had a breakdown. Today, he read them with not much more than an anxious sort of anticipation. It seemed a small change but it made all the world of difference between jumping out of a plane and jumping out of a plane with skydiving lessons and a parachute.

And of course, dinner had definitely helped.

“So basically,” Dean summarised as he stacked the notes together, tapping them into a neat pile on the edge of the desk, “These are the rules from now on, seeing as you’re open to sex. During your work hours – or at the very least, whenever I’m here – you’ll need to be clean and ready for me, which means stretching, lube, all that. And I’d like you to be completely shaven. You’re also not going to touch yourself or make yourself come at any time unless I tell you to. Have I missed anything?”

Cas shook his head, still fighting down the blush that was refusing to leave his face after this conversation. That was everything Dean had proposed, and everything he had agreed to. Anything else, Dean said, could come later. And as always, he had the safeword if he needed it.

“Great. Well, we’re not getting started straight away. Just for the sake of peace of mind and safety, we should both get tested before we do anything. This is mine,” Dean slid a sheet of paper from another stack over to Cas, who flailed over it momentarily before he began reading, “But you’re gonna need to make an appointment and get one too. It’ll take maybe a day or two to get the results back if you go to the same doctor as this.”

It didn’t take long to scan through the long list of ‘Negative’s, and Cas turned the page to find the clinic’s number.

He bit his lip and fought down his embarrassment. “Does it cost much?” he forced himself to ask, “I’m happy to pay, I know it’s necessary, but I don’t know if I’ll have enough.” It was never easy to admit something like that, but the discomfort was all too familiar to him now.

Dean shook his head without a trace of judgement in his face. “No way, don’t worry about it. I’ll pick up the fee. It’s me getting you to take the tests anyway, isn’t it? Wouldn’t be fair any other way.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, all panic about the meagre state of his bank account fading away again. It had been like living in a dream these last few days, having all the necessities here with Dean without any of the financial worries, and he wanted to remain in it as long as possible.

“Now then, we’re all done. That’s everything hot and heavy for tonight,” Dean said with a broad grin and a wink as he stood from his seat, gesturing for Cas to follow. “Wanna go watch another episode of Doctor Sexy? There’s a rerun on tonight and it looks like one of the good ones.”


	4. Chapter 4

Cas smoothed the crinkled edges of the letter, damp from rainwater that had snuck its way into the corners of Dean’s mailbox. The results from his test. They were all negatives, which came as no surprise. He _was_ a virgin, after all.

Not that Dean knew that, as far as he was aware.

Maybe he should have been upfront about it, but he was _already_ inexperienced and worthy of coddling in his employer’s eyes. There was no need to look any more useless than he already was. Chores, paper filing, cleaning – all that was easy. It was the other half of his work contract that was proving difficult.

It was frustrating to no end. The week was already nearly over, having been wasted away by reading and discussions and waiting for this letter. It was the sixth day of seven, and yet, Dean just seemed to keep finding new excuses to put off treating him like an actual houseboy. All this, despite taking the time to draw up their contract and giving him fairly _explicit_ instructions on what to do each day. It didn’t make any sense.

All this avoidance - it couldn’t have been that he was _worried_ about Cas leaving. After yesterday, it must have become clear just how much he needed this job – not even being able to pay for a simple medical test, while Dean could easily afford giving money away for servants he might only want for a week. More likely, it was because Cas turned out to be good for not much more than housework.

He sighed, dejected, and made his way to the bathroom, clutching the bottle of KY he’d found and previously carefully ignored during his cleaning rounds. He had to show Dean he was ready, that he could – probably – take whatever the man threw at him. This was the only way he could think of doing it.

Standing in front of the mirror, stripped down to his underwear, he took a deep breath.

He’d already shaved yesterday after the appointment, wanting to have some time to practice in case he blindly cut himself to ribbons. Better to have tried it first than disappoint Dean by doing it badly the first ‘real’ time. But armed with brand new razor and copious amounts of shaving gel, plus a towel laid across the empty bathtub when he realised it was near-impossible to do while standing, everything had turned out surprisingly well. Miraculously, he didn’t cut himself at all. It was a blessing, considering what he wanted to do tonight. He didn’t want to think about the probably-excruciating disaster that would have resulted otherwise.

It felt strange now, having so much smooth bare skin between his legs. In the mirror, it made him look even younger, all pink nipples, mussed hair, and a baby-smooth jaw that still refused to grow anything more than five o’clock stubble even after weeks of not shaving.

He shimmied out of his boxers, and found he had to bite his lip when the material slid past his cock, now frustratingly half-hard even though he _knew_ Dean had forbidden him from getting himself off. God, he _really_ hoped Dean might come home early today.

It took an inordinate amount of willpower to leave himself alone, instead clicking open the bottle of lubricant and smearing the wet liquid over his fingers. He’d done this before, but only in the most private moments – in his own rented apartment, behind a locked door, hands cautiously exploring his body as he chased his orgasm. It was completely different this time, having the knowledge that he was doing this for someone else’s pleasure too, and watching the clock to make sure he would be ready by Dean’s return.

He traced the rim of his ass lightly, and took a deep breath before he pressed inside with a low gasp. It had been a while and he was tighter than he was used to, the stretch uncomfortable and bordering on pain until he forced himself to relax. He had to pause and wait in intervals, letting the waves of sensation guide him until he had to stop for a completely different reason – he was fully hard now, and it was torture not being able to just wrap his hand around his cock and make himself come.

There were no restraints, no punishment or impending doom stopping him, but… just the thought of Dean’s disappointment, the image of an unhappy frown flickering over his face, was enough to make Cas stop.

Between his arousal and the quickly fading discomfort, it took a long time and another generous helping of lube before he could fit two fingers inside. When he slid in to the last knuckle he groaned and had to lean on the sink to steady himself. He worked himself open with steady, patient movements, scissoring his fingers until the muscle loosened and relaxed.

Finally, when it seemed he could add a third finger and be comfortable with it – he stopped. It took what felt like herculean will, but it would feel better later this way. For Dean, and for him.

Then he looked up at the clock and… oh, he was going to die like this. There was still another _half hour_ left.

He buried his face in his hands and sighed. There was nothing to do now except lie on the bed and wait for Dean. And try very hard not to think about his dick.

 

 

He’d fallen into such a state of combined arousal and exhaustion from his adventures in the bathroom that he didn’t even notice Dean arriving home. Still drifting through muddled, near-dreaming fantasies about what might happen, his erection faded to a sort of resigned half-mast at the lack of stimulation, Cas almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the knock on the bedroom door.

“Dean!” he yelped as he jumped to his feet and scrambled for the doorknob, just when it opened and he almost collided with Dean’s chest. “Um. I mean. Welcome home, sir?”

Dean’s eyes went wide and Cas gulped.

“What’s this about?” he asked, voice unreadable.

Cas’ heart sunk and he looked down, head bowed. He couldn’t tell if Dean was pleased or angry, but he was expecting the latter. “I’m sorry. My results arrived today and I… I wanted to surprise you, sir.”

Dean didn’t answer for so long that Cas apologised again. This was a stupid idea. What in the world had made him think Dean would be pleased by this? He turned and reached for the letter on the bedside table, intent on rushing back to his room and getting dressed and packing away what little he’d taken out of his bag and getting ready to leave and –

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dean stopped him with a hand on his collarbone. “Sit down on the bed.”

Cas abandoned the sheet of results back on the table and sat down as he was told, hands wringing in his lap. He didn’t want a scolding or demands for an explanation; he just wanted to leave. But for as long as Dean would keep him, he would be obedient.

“Look at me.”

Cas looked up reluctantly, not wanting to see the inevitable annoyance and disgust on Dean’s face. But the instant he saw the sparkle in Dean’s eye he relaxed, like all the air had been let out of his bones.

Dean wasn’t angry at all. He was _proud_.

“Did you do everything I asked?” The steel in his voice, Cas could see now, wasn’t irritation in the slightest. Everything pointed to carefully controlled desire, from his eyes roaming over Cas’ naked body to the way his tongue flicked out over his lips.

“Yes sir,” Cas nodded. He had to suppress a surprised moan when Dean pushed him onto his back and nudged his knees apart to expose his hole, shiny with lube. The sudden rush of cool air and the way Dean looked at him made him squirm, a flush beginning to spread down to his chest. Every touch felt like it registered tenfold on his skin, hyper-aware of Dean’s hands sliding down to push his thighs up to his chest.

“Hold your legs,” Dean ordered. As Cas did so, hooking his hands around the backs of his knees and keeping his legs up as close as he could manage to his chest, Dean stripped off his suit jacket and lay it on a chair. He tore off his tie in one swift movement and looked down at Cas for several long seconds, considering.

“Cross your wrists and hold them out.”

Cas could guess what was about to happen. His cock twitched between his legs and he swallowed as he watched Dean wrap the length of the tie around his wrists, making a solid knot that left his hands trapped under his knees and stopped his legs from unfolding. Dean let him turn to his side, and he wriggled to get comfortable, effectively hogtied into a ball as he was.

“How do you feel?” Dean asked, and Cas had to take a few deep breaths before he could answer.

“Green,” he finally answered, voice trembling just a little. This was really going to happen – Dean was going to fuck him like this, tied up and exposed, helpless to anything he wanted to do.

He had never been so hard in his life.

Dean’s hand trailed down his spine as he murmured soothingly. “You’re doing so good, Cas. My perfect little boy. You want me to touch you? Must’ve been difficult, waiting for me all day.”

“Y-yes, yes sir,” Cas gasped as Dean’s hand wandered lower to his ass.

The touch of warm skin to the underside of his balls, trapped between his legs as they were, made him yelp and squirm. It was both too little and too much, after he’d spent so long stubbornly ignoring his arousal.

“How long have you been like this?”

“Since… since I stretched myself, sir. Please, Dean, I – “

A sharp smack landed on his ass and he yelped again, this time from the sudden sting of pain. “ _Sir_ , please sir,” he rushed to correct himself, shame washing over him. “I’m sorry. Please touch me, please.” He was desperate, writhing for it – it wasn’t enough, to only have Dean’s hand fondling his cock and pressing teasing touches to the stretch of skin between his balls and the tight ring of muscle around his hole.

“You shaved well. Very smooth,” Dean complimented casually, unmoved by Cas’ pleading. “Have you done it before?”

“No,” Cas said, almost with a whine.

“That’s impressive.”

Why, _why_ did Dean have to be so cruel? Cas wriggled his ass towards Dean, desperate for more contact, only to earn another smack.

“ _I’ll_ choose what I do with you,” Dean scolded with a stern look, but pushed two fingers inside Cas anyway. “Did you stretch yourself properly? You feel tight.”

Cas’ mind was too busy exploding to form a real answer. He moaned and his leg kicked out restlessly. It felt so different, so foreign, so much _better_ than his own did. He wanted so much to buck back onto Dean’s hand but he wasn’t allowed, so all he could do was tremble and groan as the fingers locked inside him slowly thrust in and out.

“I asked you a question,” Dean prompted again.

“I… _ngh_ , oh, I wanted -- I wanted to be tight for you. Wanted to be good. Wanted to make you feel good,” Cas choked out, the words punched out of him. More than anything, he wanted to make Dean happy, wanted to make Dean _like_ him and _want_ him and… oh, that was when the fingers crooked inside him and he almost screamed his pleasure, at the hard press against his prostate.

“Is that right?” For the first time that night, Dean sounded less than perfectly calm and collected. “And do you want me to fuck you? Do you want my cock in you too, splitting you open?”

“Yes. Yes, please, I want it, sir!”

Dean added another finger and hot tears sprang to Cas’ eyes without warning, his muscles suddenly burning with the sensation. This was what he’d resisted doing earlier, having three fingers moving in and out of him, making him feel so full.

He couldn’t stop the sob that bubbled past his lips. Dean paused the moment it escaped.

“Colour?” he asked after a moment, and even through a mind buzzing with static and eyes clenched shut Cas could hear the concern underneath the word.

“Green, definitely green,” he gasped out, “Please.” It was bordering on a yellow, maybe, but the burning _want_ coursing through his veins far overpowered the pain.

The ensuing pause was disbelieving, almost suspicious, but finally Dean began moving again. “Then tell me. Say you want it.”

“I want it. I want it, I want you, I need you in me, please sir!”

“Say it. Say you want my hard cock in your pretty little hole.”

Cas let out a tortured cry, desire warring with the distant fear of embarrassment. He’d never said things like that, they sounded so dirty and lewd, but Dean…

“Come on, Cas. I know you can do it.”

He whimpered. “Sir, I want… I want your cock in me.”

The smack on his ass rang out through the room and he gasped, his muscles clenching around Dean’s fingers and setting off all manner of sensations. “Say it properly.” Dean’s voice was a warning, a promise of another punishment if Cas didn’t do it.

“I want your hard cock in my pretty little hole,” he finally squeaked, the words coming out in a rush. If it was possible the blush across his cheeks deepened even further, but the renewed pumping of Dean’s fingers into him was more than enough reward.

Then they were gone, and Cas thrashed so hard against the tie around his wrists that it felt like it was on the verge of tearing.

But Dean hadn’t left him; he’d only gone to fetch a pillow and lay it down beside Cas. Without warning, Cas was suddenly lifted in the air, helpless and squirming before Dean placed him back down on the bed, hands still tied behind his knees. His face would have been mashed into the mattress if it weren’t for that pillow, a firm support under his chest, but he was too out of his mind with lust to thank Dean for it. As it was, he could only writhe and beg Dean to bring back those wonderful, incredible touches.

All he got was a long sweep of Dean’s hands from his shoulders down to his waist, stopping painfully short at his ass. “How are your arms feeling?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Cas gasped out, not caring that they were starting to turn sore with the new pressure of his position. What did it matter anyway, when sparks were flying behind his eyes and Dean was so close yet so far from bringing him off?

“That’s not a proper answer.” With one swift twist of his hand Dean undid the tie around Cas’ wrists and pulled them up above Cas’ head, then landed another sharp swat to his ass that made him twitch and cry out. “Next time, you tell me the truth.”

The exquisite relief of unfolding his limbs made Cas moan into the mattress, and he stretched his back like a cat while Dean retied his hands to the headboard. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He was one arched line on the bed, squirming in his bonds as Dean’s hands clutched tight to either side of his hips, making him hold his ass up in the air in display. The sheets rustled softly as Dean moved, but as much as Cas twisted his head around he couldn’t see what was happening.

Dean pressed his head back down gently. “No watching, baby. Just trust me.”

Cas’ toes curled on the bed and he nodded, then lay his forehead down on the bed, eyes closed. In this moment he would have done anything Dean asked of him, as long as it ended with Dean inside him and letting him come.

Then there was a press of something hard against his hole, and before Cas could moan it had already slipped inside, wide and hot and _so, so good_. He wailed into the mattress, hips trying to buck back, and hooked a foot around Dean’s ankle, trying to get him in _further, deeper, anything to get more_.

Dean batted his foot away and bore down on him, completely covering Cas’ body with his own. His arm wrapped around Cas’ waist, a strong solid weight grounding him to reality as he thrashed on the bed in blinding pleasure. The head of Dean’s cock had hit his prostate like a bullseye, and now that it was there Dean just _wouldn’t move_ , leaving him in a state of suspended, delirious rapture.

“Stop moving,” Dean commanded and Cas froze immediately, muscles twitching with tension as he held himself statue-still. “Don’t hide those sounds from me, they’re mine, you hear?”

Seconds passed as Cas composed himself enough to lift his face from where it was pressed into the bed. The moment he did so, Dean slammed into him with such force he screamed and his hands scrabbled uselessly at the headboard. But still he couldn’t let himself thrust back, seat himself on Dean as deep as he wanted to – Dean had ordered him not to, and he had to listen, no matter impossible it felt.

“God, you’re so good. My perfect little boy, Cas, _Jesus_ ,” Dean murmured into his neck, voice not even wavering. He pinched Cas’ nipples hard, with a sharp twist of his fingers that tore out a litany of babbling groans for more from Cas’ throat.

Then he started thrusting, and oh god, Cas was in _heaven._

He was so far gone, with Dean pushing into him so forcefully he was a shaking mess on the bed, that it only took the lightest of touches to his cock to make him come all over the sheets.

His knees turned to jelly and he almost collapsed under the weight of Dean’s body, as Dean came only a few thrusts later, hot liquid spilling into Cas.

As they caught their breath, Dean lilted to the side and pulled Cas in close to his chest, arms surrounding him like a warm blanket. The tie knotted around his hands twisted, and he tugged at them helplessly, pressing closer to Dean since he couldn’t touch him back.

Thankfully Dean noticed, and sleepily reached up to tug the fabric loose.

The moment he was free, Cas turned in Dean’s arms and latched on like an octopus. He didn’t know how Dean put up with it, having Cas’ sweat-sticky body cling to the remnants of his suit as he was, but he was grateful for every moment of it.

“I’ll call for pizza,” Dean mumbled into the crook of his neck, but neither of them moved for a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

“You’ve got to be kidding me. That was your _first time_ and you didn’t even…”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face with an exasperated sigh. He sounded frustrated, even angry now. It made Cas wish he could hide in his room and avoid this argument entirely.

“I thought it wouldn’t matter, sir,” he tried to explain meekly, glancing around at anything but Dean’s face.

“No. No, while we’re like this – out here – you do _not_ call me that. I’m not your dom right now. I’m… _Fuck,_ Cas, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I – I don’t know. I was ready for you, I’d already cleaned up and prepped myself and…”

“I could have _hurt_ you, and you know it.”

“Well, you didn’t.” Cas grabbed one of the couch pillows and hugged it with crossed arms. Of all the things he’d dreamt of having after losing his virginity, this… this petty, stupid, _horrible_ argument was not one of them.

The pizza sat untouched on the table, as did the DVDs half-out of their sleeves on the floor. Dean had been halfway to starting up Star Trek when it had slipped out – “ _Does it always feel sore after?” –_ and then the whole sordid truth had been interrogated out of him.

“What if I tore you, huh? Or went too fast and made you bleed? For fuck’s sake, I tied you to the bed and practically beat you up. If I messed up, I bet you would’ve just let me keep going. You don’t even know what sex is supposed to be like. Jesus, did you even _want_ it, or did you just think it would make me happy?”

“ _Yes_ , I wanted it,” Cas protested, biting his tongue on the insults that he – very unwisely – wanted to throw at the man pacing back and forth across the room.

Leave it to Dean to invent more reasons why they shouldn’t be having sex. Meanwhile, here was Cas, innocently thinking it was part of his job description and then, he didn’t know, actually trying to _do his job_?

“I don’t know why you’d care anyway,” Cas mumbled into his pillow, more venting than anything else. But Dean heard, and he crossed the room to stand in front of Cas in an instant.

“You don’t mean that,” he growled, but Cas was too worked up now to hit the brakes.

“Well, it’s true. I _don’t_ know. Ever since I got here you’ve been trying to do everything except let me serve you as I thought you wanted me to when we talked at the Roadhouse. I understand that I’m new to this but I haven’t done anything except clean your house and surf the internet for the whole week. At first I thought it was just because you wanted me to learn how to be your submissive, but now…” Cas shook his head, and went on.

“What difference would it have made if I wasn’t a virgin, anyway? Or if I told you first? We still would have done the same thing. I’m your employee, not your boyfriend. You said yourself that sex was an expectation. Does it really matter if it’s the first time or the hundredth?”

Dean’s face turned so soft Cas wished he could cling to him and pretend this had never happened. “Cas…”

He didn’t know if he wanted to hear it. Now was the inevitable moment when Dean finally revealed he was planning on kicking Cas out at the end of the week anyway. It would explain a lot. In all likelihood, all he wanted was a neater house and then a clean break tomorrow night, no attachments and no relationships.

But the words never came. Instead, Dean collapsed on the sofa beside him and let out an exhausted sigh. “This isn’t what your first time is supposed to be like. What happened to prom night, doing the awkward do with your date while your parents worry about your curfew?” he said with a forced laugh, nudging Cas with his elbow. “Or hooking up with a hot someone in your college class? Not getting fucked by some old man for cash.”

Hearing it like that stung – more than stung, it felt like his heart had been torn out and ripped to shreds. He burrowed down into the couch and stared very hard at the floor, jaw clenched.

“Was that what your first time was like, then?” he muttered eventually.

“Nah, not exactly.”

Then what was the whole _point_ of this conversation?

Cas would have _been_ in college if he could afford it. He would have been in his own _house_ right now if only he could make the rent. As for prom, well, that was just one in a whole line of high school clichés that he missed out on. His brothers had long since stopped paying attention to anything but simply keeping him fed and alive by then. As for his parents, they were far too busy sipping champagne on very separate unknown beaches to ever even _think_ about his _curfew._

What did Dean think this was? A part time job? A hobby?

An hour ago, he’d felt like he could take on the world. Right now, all he wanted to do was disappear.

He got up and walked out of the room before Dean could see his face. “Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s done now, anyway. I’m going to bed.”

 

 

The next morning, he felt awful.

This was it. The last day of seven. It had gone so well for almost the entire week: Dean had been so patient with him the entire time, practically holding his hand throughout the entire arrangement. And in return Cas hoped he’d shown he was worthy of all the attention, trying his best to learn and obey. Until last night.

He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, storming off as he had.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, wishing it had all just been a dream. This job had dropped in his lap as if out of the heavens, with its incredible pay and the benefits of rent-free living. Had he really ruined it all because of a harmless offhand comment from Dean?

Unfortunately, there was something all too real about the shame in the pit of his stomach that told him it was true.

There was a knock on the door and the shame only reached up to choke him.

“Yes?” he called out reluctantly, sitting up in his bed.

Dean looked around the side of the door as it cracked open. “Can I come in?”

Cas nodded, as much as he wished he didn’t have to have this conversation – _Thanks for your service but you need to leave, Castiel, I can’t have you working for me like this any more;_ he could already imagine the words and he didn’t need to hear them out loud too. Dean slunk inside and sat down at the foot of Cas’ bed.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

They both blurted it out at the same time. Then ensued a short battle to let the other speak first. Dean won, and Cas was left staring down at his bedsheets as he scrambled to form an answer.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have lied to you, before _and_ during, and I shouldn’t have left the room like that.” It was harder than he realised to force those words out. He knew they had to be said, if he wanted to keep this job, but the memory of Dean’s words still sat in his chest like a wound. “I won’t do it again. That is, if… If you’ll still have me.”

Dean grimaced and Cas braced himself for a proper dressing-down, but his expectations were defied as always. “I’m never going to understand why you’re not running for the hills right now, but… yeah, of course I’ll still have you.” Hope blossomed in Cas’ chest. “It wasn’t your fault. You know, I mouthed off a bit without thinking, said a lot that I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to…” Dean’s hand waved in Cas’ general direction, vaguely gesturing at all of him. “Sorry, Cas.”

“It’s fine,” Cas said quickly and bowed his head. It felt like the humiliation was going to eat him alive. In all likelihood Dean would think of him as even _more_ of a child now, in need of care and gentle words. “Though, I still don’t know why you think I’d want to leave.”

He wasn’t really expecting an answer, but Dean gave one. “There’s probably something I should have told you before, Cas.”

A quiet fell over the room.

Cas tilted his head, confused. This could be the part where Dean confessed he really was a serial killer – but it wasn’t the time for jokes. “What is it?”

“It’s not that dramatic,” Dean shrugged and rolled his eyes, though Cas took no offence because it seemed mostly self-directed. “Just, personal history stuff. Things we should’ve gotten out in the open before this.”

That sounded ominous. Cas thought the tests they’d both taken had made their pasts irrelevant. But he nodded and listened.

“Look, I get that you think I’ve been going too slow. You know it’s not ‘cause I don’t like you, right?”

Cas made a face, trying to look like he agreed. But, the truth of it was, how was he supposed to know?

“It’s just that – way before I met you – I used to be, uh, a pretty shitty guy. An even worse dom, one of this whole pack of douchebags. Didn’t want to talk things out, looked for the all the wrong signs in the subs I wanted.” Dean didn’t look at Cas as he spoke, and the words came out awkward – like he was forcing too much levity into a subject that didn’t suit it. Cas couldn’t imagine it. The Dean he knew, with his endless negotiations and near-constant colour checks, simply couldn’t match up with the image he was being given.

“I mean, obviously I got out. I’m not still trawling shady BDSM clubs, am I?” Dean grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “But then I see you sometimes and… I dunno.  Last thing I wanna do is scare you off, but I’ve gotta be honest, every now and then it’s like I’m still in some dungeon with Alastair and I’m about to flay you without a safeword ‘til you bleed.”

Cas shivered. “…Alastair?”

“Sorry. One of the douchebags I mentioned.”

“Oh.” This conversation was starting to scare him. _Dean_ was starting to scare him, with the way his eyes had turned intense and dark, half-lost in some memory Cas wouldn’t be able to pull him out of. “Dean, if you don’t want to talk about this…”

“No, it’s fine. All I’m saying is, you should probably know what you’re getting into if you sign up to work here. I promised you you’d be safe, and that’s not gonna change, but… yeah, I’m kinda messed up. And when you said you were a virgin,” Dean shook his head, “I don’t know what happened. I panicked and, um. Said the first things that came to mind. Thought I must have pressured you into it somehow, ‘cause there’d be no way you would’ve wanted your first time with _me_ if you had your choice about it.”

“Well, I did,” Cas frowned. “And you _do_ realise you’re paying me to do this.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth turned down. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it has to be terrible for you. You don’t know what you look like, Cas. I know you really need the money, and you’re so inexperienced you’d probably believe anything I told you. It’d be so easy for anyone to take advantage of you. I don’t want to be one of those anyones.”

Cas chewed his lip. He would have argued that he wasn’t as innocent as Dean was trying to make him out to be, but he was no idiot. There were plenty of horror stories about people like him, young and faux-independent, getting butchered by all kinds of psychos out in the real world just for existing.

Meanwhile, Dean’s perspective was… strange, especially considering he was still paying a recently-deflowered eighteen year old for housework and kinky sex. But it was not at all a bad thing. He truly enjoyed working for Dean, to some extent; even the chores had been more interesting than usual with the undercurrent of submission always running beneath. Even knowing the bare bones of Dean’s apparent dark past would not change the fact that he did trust him. Dean was _good_ , and Cas truly believed that.

If he’d placed his faith in the wrong man, then he’d reap the consequences later.

“It _hasn’t_ been terrible. I enjoy being in your company, and after this week… I would like to stay in it, if I can,” he finally said, resolute.

There was a silence that would have worried him, if it weren’t for Dean’s small smile and the soft brush of his thumb over Cas’ hand on the sheets.

“Does that mean you’ll be officially staying on, then?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly, heart thudding fast in his chest. The beam that split Dean’s face made him smile back in reflex.

“You’ll probably need to pack the rest of your stuff from home, right?” Dean nodded his head over to the satchel in the corner of the room, where Cas’ belongings had been stuffed back in after a half-hearted unpacking earlier in the week. “It’s Saturday. I can drop you off if you want.”

Saturday. Cas had completely lost track of the days of the week, having been so concerned with counting down the time he had left to prove himself to Dean. It was like the past seven days had dissolved before his eyes.

“Yes, please. Can I get dressed first?”

“No, you’ve gotta go naked.” At Cas’ mortified face, Dean laughed. “Sarcasm, dude. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

 

 

Once they arrived, it didn’t take long to get everything together. Within half an hour he’d stuffed all his clothes into various bags and boxes, along with his laptop tucked safe in its case and – after no small amount of inner debate – the Bible he’d secretly kept from the family home. There was nothing else after that apart from some books he’d let himself splurge on over the past months.

His logical mind told him to keep just enough here that he could rush back if things went awry with Dean, but he knew the sooner the rent stopped eating a hole in his prospective paychecks, the better. If he could sell his few old household items and pieces of furniture online then he could probably add a couple hundred to his bank account, he thought happily.

Things were really looking up.

The rent wasn’t due until the end of the month, which left him another two weeks to sell off the rest of his things. He left them where they were and dragged his packaged belongings out to the front of the building.

It was bizarre that just this morning he was prepared to come back here to endless newspaper ads, trawling through page after page of online job listings, resigned to regretting that trivial argument with Dean for at least the next few years. Now, he was uprooting his life all over again to stay with the very same man for (hopefully) another six months at the least, cleaning his house and serving him in every way imaginable.

Perhaps it wasn’t his dream job, but it was more than enough to get himself back on his feet. And that was all he needed. He was getting another chance, another fresh start, and this time he knew he’d get it right.

When the sleek black classic car pulled up on the curb, it was with an air of finality that Cas picked himself up off the sidewalk, belongings in hand. 


	6. Chapter 6

“I bought a few things while you were gone,” Dean began conversationally once they were driving off in the direction of home. He reached over to the backseat to grab something at the next traffic light and dropped a large paper bag into Cas’ lap.

Hadn’t Dean just gone out for a ‘supply run’ while Cas was packing up? He’d taken that to mean groceries and other necessities. This was certainly a mystery.

Cas reached in and was about to take out one of the plastic boxes inside when Dean suddenly grabbed his hand and made him drop it back into the bag. “Uh, how about you don’t take them out ‘til we get back home, hey? Don’t wanna scare the other drivers,” he laughed with an edge of panic as he sent a friendly wink towards the old lady in the neighbouring lane. “Just look inside the top.”

Now he was really intrigued. He stole another glance at Dean, who was now very conspicuously only concentrating on the road, then peered into the bag.

He could feel the blood rushing to his face. He sunk about two inches down in his seat.

“Dean, these are…”

The whole bag was filled with sex toys.

 “Yeah. Um. Well, now that I actually _know_ how unexperienced you are,” Dean said with a pointed look that made Cas burn in embarrassment and renewed guilt, “I thought you might like some stuff to practice with. And, uh, some of it is just generally fun.”

From what he could tell, Dean had really gone on a shopping spree. There was a pack of three different anal plugs, each progressively bigger than the last. A Hitachi wand was the next to greet him in its plain cardboard box. He had to reach into the bag to see the rest of the items, which left him more than a little confused – there was something that looked like a string of large beads and, most baffling of all, a smooth pink vibrator, curved like a G.

“What about this? I don’t have a vagina,” he said plainly, tilting the bag towards Dean so he could see the corner of the box. Judging from what it said on the packaging, it didn’t look like it would be very useful to them at all.

Dean glanced over and laughed. “You don’t need one, believe me.”

That seemed all the answer he was willing to give, so Cas took the bag back and examined the rest of his new toys with rapt curiosity. Dean must have spent an _exorbitant_ amount of money on these. He could easily imagine the man browsing aisles upon aisles of these items, Cas on his mind all the while. How had he chosen the ones he bought? Did he think about how Cas might look using them, writhing on his bed with any combination of these inside him?

He blushed deeper and fidgeted in his seat. The dashboard of the Impala was suddenly extremely interesting.

 

 

Dean didn’t begin straight away when they arrived back at his house, which looked unbelievably luxurious and fancy now that Cas realised he would actually be living here. It was like seeing everything with new eyes. He ran his hands across the polished wood-and-metal railings and revelled in the soft carpet under his toes as he ferried his bags back and forth from the car to his room. This was going to be his _home_ , at least for the foreseeable future.

“Should I give you a few minutes to settle in?” Dean teased when he caught Cas staring at the intricate swirls of a picture frame he must have passed a million times in the past week.

“Sorry, I’ll stop.” Cas looked down at his feet, feeling like a nosy neighbour.

“It’s fine. It’s… kinda cute.” The grin Cas received made his heart melt around the edges, until he came back to his senses and remembered _no, I’m not a guest, these are working hours._ “But do you wanna go try out your new stuff?”

Cas remembered the paper bag from the car and instantly blushed. He nodded furiously, mind already spinning with the sheer variety of the things they could do with… with _those_.

“Great. Follow me.”

The atmosphere changed, just like that. Cas straightened his back and obediently followed Dean to his room, chest tight with anticipation.

“Strip,” he ordered without looking back, heading into the ensuite where Cas could see the collection of new toys drying on the sink.

He unbuttoned his shirt and jeans and pulled them off, more efficient than elegant, each article neatly folded at the foot of the bed. When Dean returned Cas saw he’d done the same, dressed in nothing except boxers. He had to swallow the knot that had formed in his throat, seeing Dean almost nude, all lightly tanned skin and smooth muscle that promised strength and power.

At a wave of Dean’s hand, he lay face down on the silky sheets with his arms folded under the pillow, head bowed even while he watched Dean fish something out of a bedside drawer out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t see what it was but he could certainly _imagine_ , and it made heat curl low in his belly.

“No looking,” Dean scolded when he walked back, tilting his head back down with gentle push before placing something unknown on the bed behind him. Cas squirmed and concentrated on staying still, with the gloriously soft texture of the blankets across his skin. He wanted to turn around so _badly_ , wanted to see what Dean was going to use on him, but he had to be good. If he disappointed Dean, then maybe they would have to stop, and that was an unbearable thought.

“Good boy.” Dean’s voice was a wonderful hum of approval. Cas felt, rather than saw, him settle on the bed, straddling his legs. He heard the sound of something wet, then – he jerked in shock as slick fingers prodded at his entrance, a low whine escaping when he felt them push inside. “Feel okay?”

“Mph. Yes. Green.” Cas’ hands clenched in the sheets, forcing himself not to thrust back on them. Dean hadn’t liked him doing that last time.

“Good, good,” Dean cooed, his other hand running down Cas’ back in gentle, soothing motions. “Relax for me.”

After several deep breaths, filling his lungs with much-needed oxygen he’d forgotten to take in, he tilted his ass up in offering. “Please?” he begged, careful not to give in to the urge to rut against the bedsheets.

Dean sat back, considering, before his hand slipped below Cas’ waist. Cas moaned and squirmed happily in his arms, expecting Dean to jerk him off or at least give him _some_ kind of stimulation, but it never happened. Instead, a snug ring closed around the base of his cock and the hand was gone.

“No, please, please let me come, sir,” he whined, hips bucking back. The ring was so tight it was perfectly clear what it was for, and though he wasn’t anywhere close to orgasm yet, he could already feel the desperation.

He didn’t get a response; all Dean did was push something round into him, then another, and another until he was all but wailing into the mattress, body limp and ass full. He had no idea what they were, except they were smooth and slowly stretching him _wide_ , and confusingly arousing every time his muscles closed back around each bead.

Then he remembered. Beads, the odd silicone ones he’d found among Dean’s purchases. Oh, now it all made sense. He moaned and suppressed another buck of his hips as Dean pushed the next ball inside, now large enough that it made him gasp as it pressed inside.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Nice and big, stretching you out like that,” Dean leaned down to whisper, then nibbled his earlobe. Cas jerked up in surprise, and the way the movement made him clench around the beads set off a chain reaction that left him incoherently moaning and writhing under Dean’s weight.

The last ball sat just at the rim of his oversensitive hole, a teasing weight. Dean reached down and pushed it halfway in with the tip of one finger as Cas whined and spread his legs further apart, trying to relieve the pressure on the ring of muscle. It was at its widest point, and it must have been at least an inch and a half across. Whatever it was, it was enough to leave him panting into the pillow. But Dean didn’t let it slip inside – instead, he let it slip back and forth, caught between the instinctive clenching of Cas’ hole and the unyielding push of his hand.

“Could keep you like this for hours,” Dean mused, “You’d love it, wouldn’t you?”

He was torn between nodding, always so eager for more of that praise that made him blush and stutter, and simply screaming for Dean to touch him and let him come.

A few more minutes of that torturous teasing, and then Dean let the last ball slip inside with a wet pop. Cas was so lost in it that it took a moment before he realised the tug at his shoulder meant he was supposed to turn over onto his back.

He must have been a sight, cheeks flushed and cock heavy between his legs, the ring stopping anything more than a few drops of pre-come leak from his slit. His hands were fisted in the sheets, the only thing keeping him from completely losing control to every sensation threatening to overwhelm him – how he was filled with the silicone beads, stretching him wide from the inside, how much he wanted Dean’s hand around his cock, how it felt to be lying beneath the man’s roaming eyes and know there was still so much more in store for him.

“Please, sir, I want…” he trailed off, not knowing what should come next. He wanted _everything_ , every feeling Dean had to offer and every pleasure he could surround himself in forever.

“Shh. I’ll take care of you.” Dean’s hand brushed over Cas’ brow, such a sweet gesture it felt out of place when Cas was busy writhing for more on the bed. Then he reached down and jerked Cas off, two quick tugs that only made his need all the more intense. It wasn’t anywhere near enough, and if anything it made it _worse_ , the rough skin of Dean’s hands and the cock ring holding him at the edge but never letting him over.

Dean tweaked his nipple and _that was it_ , he thrashed on the bed with a scream, he could swear he was coming except –

And then Dean yanked the beads out of him all at once, pulling by the plastic hook. It was too much. Cas moaned as they slipped out, his hole spasming and twitching at the loss, before he collapsed back down, legs sprawled and still shivering in the aftermath of what should have been his orgasm, overwhelmed by the flood of sensation.

He clawed at Dean’s back, legs hooked around still-clothed thighs. His hips lifted clear off the bed, completely overcome by the absolute _need_ for touch. “More, please, s-sir,” Cas keened into Dean’s shoulder, “I need, I need…”

He heard the vibration before he felt it, so strong when it rippled into his cock that he flailed his leg hard into Dean’s side and barely realised it. It was the wand, held against with him such unforgiving pressure that he couldn’t suppress another scream. It was too much, it made his head spin and it – oh, it –

“Yellow,” Cas sobbed out, “It hurts, it…”

The vibration was gone and Dean removed the cock ring with a quick flourish of his wrist. Cas came without another touch, clinging to Dean like his life depended on it.

Dean turned them so Cas’ bare back was against his chest, helping him through the aftershocks with a hand around his softening cock. “There we go, there we go,” he murmured as he pressed soft kisses into the crook of Cas’ jaw, “Such a good boy, telling me what you need. You feel better, baby?”

Cas nodded and curled his arm up into Dean’s hair, every breath still shuddering in his chest. He thrust lazily into Dean’s palm as a gentle hand brushed away the last of the tears that had fallen without his permission. It took a few minutes but he caught his breath eventually. He took one last deep breath. “Can we… keep going now, sir?”

Dean nosed at the nape of neck and pressed a few more kisses into the soft skin there. “I’d love to, precious, but you know…”

Before Cas even realised, Dean had pressed one of the plugs inside him, snug and tight.

“… I think you’ve still got some chores to do.”

 

 

This was impossible. Dean had pulled all his clothes back on, with the plug still underneath, handed him a feather duster, and told him to get to work. And now here he was, doing exactly that.

He was hard again and he _knew_ Dean could see it, could see how much he wanted Dean’s touch, but… all he got was a smirk from the seat in the corner of the room, and a gesture to continue.

This wasn’t fun at all. All he could think of was the hard plastic weight in his ass, locked in tight and impossible to ignore. How was he supposed to concentrate on cleaning while he had _that_ distracting him? He fidgeted and pouted when he wandered near, but Dean only patted his ass firmly – not quite a smack – as the plug moved inside him and made him whimper. “Be good, baby. I know you can do it.”

Well. Perhaps it was a _little_ fun.

“Yes, sir.” He walked around the shelves, letting the feathers drift over them, and dared to glance over at Dean every once in a while. It wasn’t difficult to work from the top of the room down, making sure every book spine and odd antique ornament was free of every single speck of dust.

Then it was time for the last set of shelves, down by the floor. He couldn’t help but grin to himself – he didn’t see anything special when he looked in the mirror, but he knew perfectly well that Dean saw _something_ worth sexual attraction in him. Careful not to look back, he bent down and ran the duster over the books, then sank slowly into a crouch to rearrange them into an immaculate line. The movement jostled the plug almost uncomfortably, pressing dangerously close to his prostate, but it was worth every moment of hearing Dean shuffle on the chair and breathe a little harder.

He stood up again, letting a groan escape his lips, and moved to the next set of shelves. Every step was a little harder to take, with the plastic pressing up into him at each small movement. But he made it with only the slightest wobble on his feet, and knelt down. This time the careful progress wasn’t faked; the plug sent his nerves firing without prejudice, and sparks lit every time he moved.

Sitting back on his heels was a phenomenally bad idea – he miscalculated and the knock of his foot against his ass made him jerk and groan into the knuckles of his hand, unexpected and far too pleasant for anyone’s good. His eyes darted to Dean, to see if he’d noticed. And of course he had, those eyes constantly on him like a hawk’s.

“You’re nearly done,” he said comfortingly, crossing his legs. Cas’ eyes narrowed but it was without any real anger.

Deep breaths, in then out. He got up again and wandered to the last corner of the room, resolute on finishing this as quickly as possible. He was on the verge of coming in his pants now, with the plug pressing at all sorts of interesting angles inside him, and Dean probably knew it. His grip on the duster made his knuckles turn white and he had to pause every few seconds now, catching his breath and staying very still until the wave of pleasure passed.

There. He was done, he had to be done now, that was the entire room and he’d cleaned the whole thing with what now felt like a _huge_ knot in his ass. Surely Dean would reward him now? He turned and looked over expectantly, hoping for praise and comfort.

“Missed a spot.” Dean pointed towards a shallow wooden dish on the top shelf, covered in ornate symbols. Cas audibly groaned, but reached up, his legs shaking with the effort.

 _Now_ he was finished.

Dean stood and enveloped him in a hug, so sudden Cas jerked and moaned, then reached down to slide a hand below his waistband.

“All done, that’s my boy. So good, so obedient, I know that wasn’t easy,” he murmured as Cas thrashed in his arms, thrumming through the aftershocks of his orgasm. His underwear was uncomfortably wet and sticky, and he told Dean so.

“We should go wash up now, shouldn’t we?”

Cas liked that idea very, very much.

 

 

In the shower, both naked and soapy and soaked, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Dean clenched his fingers into Cas’ hair, his open-mouthed kiss so deep Cas could only cling on for dear life as he explored his mouth. His own hands were mapping every inch of Dean’s body, fascinated by every curve of muscle and lightly tanned skin, usually hidden by sharp suits or layers upon layers of washed-soft flannel. How could someone who looked like Dean exist, with a body like _that_ combined with a face like _that?_ And the way he made Cas feel, molding him into another form with strong, confident, kind hands…

Dean was hard again, Cas could feel it press against his hip and he pulled away from the kiss with a reluctant groan.

“Sir, may I…?” he asked, meek, as he knelt on the slippery tiles and took Dean’s cock in his hand. For a split-second he hesitated – it was much more intimidating up close, could he really…? – but a moan from the man above him egged him on and he licked a long stripe up the length.

“God, Cas, you’re incredible,” Dean muttered as his hands went back to tangle in messy dark hair. Cas let his eyes flutter closed and he parted his lips, letting the head of Dean’s cock into his mouth. It was a hot, heavy weight in his mouth and he let the taste settle over him, the light tang of salt and slight bitterness that spilled onto his tongue when he curiously licked at the slit. The fingers in his hair tightened for a split second and Cas obediently did it again, earning a wonderful huff of pleasure for his work.

When he got used to the girth of it, he swallowed Dean down deeper, as far as he could manage without quite choking. The cock filled his mouth so completely, it felt like he was made to take Dean in like this, created to please him. The thought made him moan and he tried to suck –

He spluttered and coughed and pulled away. Oh, his stupid gag reflex, he _hated_ it, he just wanted to make Dean feel good and it just _had_ to…

“Hey. Take it slow,” Dean smiled above him, hand curling a strand of wet hair back behind Cas’ ear. Cas nodded, biting back his humiliation, and went in again.

This time it was better. He went wherever Dean’s hand guided him, and perfectly performed every instruction – “Yeah, that’s right, breathe through your nose,” as he let Cas pull back for oxygen, “Keep it in your mouth, swallow past the reflex, there’s my good boy,” – until Dean’s breath couldn’t help but hitch and Cas felt so _proud,_ so pleased with himself it made him smile to himself around the cock in his mouth as he continued his ministrations.

Just when his jaw was beginning to hurt from being locked open for so long, Dean tugged at his hair. “Gonna come, Cas, might wanna…”

Cas squeaked but only plunged deeper. No, he wanted to take _all_ of Dean, he wanted…

The sudden burst of semen into his mouth caught him off guard and he had to pull away after that, but he swallowed every drop dutifully, sitting back so Dean could see.

“Jesus… Should punish you for not listening,” Dean groaned, but they both knew he didn’t mean it – the wide grin on his face, the heavy breaths still rocking his chest, they all gave him away. He pulled Cas up and drew him into a kiss. “My perfect boy.”

Cas could only smile, preen and kiss back for all he was worth.

That night, they slept curled around each other in Dean’s bed for the first time. Cas had never felt so warm. Sated, mind muddled from sleepiness, the thought came and went unfiltered: If this was what every weekend would be like, he hoped it would never end.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean walked back in the room where Cas was still dozing on the bed, up to his chin in the cottony, soft blankets, and clicked the phone back onto the receiver.

“You never showed me what that pink one does,” he murmured, still half-asleep. He hadn’t stopped thinking about that toy ever since he remembered it, sometime in the early hours of the morning, after which he’d drifted in and out of bizarre dreams about many of its – probably incorrect – possible uses.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Dean said as he leaned over, pecking Cas on the cheek. “Maybe even before noon. You up for entertaining some guests? My brother’s coming over for lunch with his fiancée.”

Cas snuffled into the blankets. “Yes sir. I can make some salad and sandwiches.”

“Sammy’ll love it. Thanks,” Dean smiled and ruffled his hair. “I’ll let you wake up, then we can play, hm?”

That certainly made his ears perk up.

 

 

They still had an hour before Sam and Jessica were due to arrive. Cas laid out the plates, ready for the salad, then went to find Dean, funny pink vibrator in hand.

But now, knocking on Dean’s door and asking for him so blatantly seemed… embarrassing. He fidgeted and hid it behind his back before entering the study, where Dean glanced up at him over the top of – oh, they were _very_ nice reading glasses indeed.

“I finished cleaning and making the food, sir,” he said, back straight as he stood in the doorway. “I was wondering if you might be free at the moment?”

Dean folded the glasses away into their case and snapped it shut with a loud click that made him shiver. He didn’t take his eyes off Cas as he stood up, closing the lid of his laptop. “What can I help you with?”

This was it. The moment of judgement, so to speak. Cas’ face must have shifted through a million different shades of red before he held up the plastic toy Dean had bought the other day, holding it out in the palm of his hand. Dean’s eyes darkened in lust.

“You think you deserve a reward for doing your job?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Cas, only ostensibly unhappy.

Cas lowered his eyes to the ground and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I only thought you might want a break from your own work, sir.”

“You know I’m busy. But, because you’re being such a naughty boy,” Dean let out an extremely put-upon sigh, then crooked his finger to order Cas to his side, “I’m going to have to punish you, aren’t I?”

Cas shivered and he padded over to Dean’s side, heart rate kicking up.

“Over my knee.”

He placed the vibrator down on the desk and stared for a moment, before bending over – a little awkward, a little off-balance until one hand flung out for balance on the edge of the chair. Dean lifted him up, and rearranged him on his lap until Cas was helplessly bent across his thighs.

Dean’s hands danced over his back, light touches even more teasing through his thin shirt.

“Hands behind your back.” Dean’s rough voice gave him shivers, and he folded his wrists behind his back. The tight grip that held them in place there was both secure and terrifying, a position that asked him to place all his trust in Dean. And that was, Cas found, a humbling and wondrous thought.

With one hand around his hip to stop him from toppling over, Dean worked at Cas’ jeans and pulled them down over his ass none too gently, the waistband catching on one hip as his boxers were pulled down too. He shivered at the rush of cool air.

His shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and Dean’s hand came down hard on his ass.

He squeaked and his legs flailed, tears springing to his eyes. Dean didn’t stop, landing lighter stingy smacks, open-handed, onto the join between his ass and the top of his thighs.

Each slap began picking up force as time went on, a gradual build-up that left Cas screaming. It didn’t take long before he was lost and overwhelmed, lying across Dean’s knees with the vague awareness of something noticeably hard against his side, and his own cock beginning to harden from a confusing mix of arousal and pain. He felt like he was drifting, half removed from the sensation of each smarting strike to his body, panting – almost sobbing – for air.

When Dean stopped it felt like he was burning from the inside out, legs limp and jelly-like as he tried to nuzzle up to the hand now combing through his hair. “Shh, it’s okay now, my precious boy.”

The drawer near his head opened and Dean took a small plastic bottle out of it, then released his wrists carefully, making sure he wouldn’t topple to the floor.

“Open your legs a bit," Dean ordered as he trailed soothing fingertips across red-hot skin. Cas edged them open as much as he dared without falling. He felt something hard – not large, but too thick to be Dean’s fingers, which he was now _well_ acquainted with - push into his hole, and groaned as the muscle parted around it. It was the vibrator.

He mumbled in a fuzzy sort of confusion as the ribbed end of it stopped at his prostate, a constant promise of pleasure. Dean let the other end – this one flexible and less textured – rest snug against his perineum, just behind the seam of his balls.

“We good?”

“Yes sir,” Cas murmured, shifting a little to get comfortable.

Dean clicked the vibrator on, and _oh_ Cas was in _heaven_ – there were fireworks behind his eyes, as the tremors shook him to the core, the dual pressure to his prostate through to his cock. His hands flailed out and he held onto the desk and the edge of Dean’s chair for dear life, his mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“Whoa there,” he heard Dean say, barely conscious of the words as he was helped off Dean’s knees and allowed to sit on the carpet. The press of the floor against his ass only made the vibrations stronger and he moaned into Dean’s leg, squirming up onto his knees to escape the buzzing.

It didn’t take long for him to come untouched, though it caught him off guard and he screamed as he spilled across the carpet.

 

 

Dean had let him clean up and put himself back together, but nothing was going to get rid of how red and teary his face still looked. It looked like he’d been crying his eyes out, but short of pasting on makeup that neither of them owned, the only thing he could do was wash his face a few more times.

He gave up and went back to the kitchen to serve up the food. Sam was due any minute, and besides that, this was the first time Cas had ever hosted a meal for _any_ guests, let alone Dean’s.

That was when Dean pulled him aside, just as a stranger’s car pulled up in the driveway.

“Hey, uh… Sam doesn’t know about us, or this, so if you could…”

“I don’t mind staying in my room,” Cas offered, quashing down the disappointment. He’d completely forgotten that this – their arrangement – could be something to feel shame over, but of course Dean would not have let it slip his mind so easily. In addition, this was supposed to be Dean’s time with his _family_ , and it made perfect sense for him to want to be alone with them.

But Dean shook his head. “What? No, nothing like that. Just, you mind if I introduce you as a boyfriend?”

Oh. That was… “Okay,” he answered easily, though the thought weighed down on him. He didn’t know how he was supposed to pretend that they were romantically involved, and not quite in the same manner they had been over the last few days.

“Okay,” Dean repeated, “Awesome. Thanks Cas, you’re the best.” He rubbed Cas’ arm in a half-hug and went to answer the door.

Cas ran away to the kitchen rather than face Sam and his fiancée straight away. He could still hear Dean’s whoops of laughter as he greeted his “nerdy lawyer” brother and unknown voices drifted up from the entranceway. They went on for some time while he pretended to be busy, putting away dishes and leaving bowls in the sink to wash. He fully expected Dean to forget about his presence, from how happy he sounded to be around his brother, but then he heard his name, first from the living room and then drifting closer to the kitchen.

“Yeah, just a sec, gonna see where he disappeared off to. Cas! You in here? Got some people for you to meet!” Dean’s cheerful voice called through the house, until his head appeared in the doorway and he waved Cas over. It was almost strange to see him like this, so carefree and friendly, a fraction – but an important fraction – different from the man Cas had come to know. The jokes came easily and his guard was down, in a way it never quite was when Cas was alone with him. “Come on, you’re gonna love them. Jess can’t wait to meet you.”

Cas followed a few steps behind Dean until they arrived back in the living room where a freakishly tall and handsome man lounged comfortably on the couch beside a woman, sitting politely upright, with blonde hair and kind brown eyes.

“Alrighty. So, lovebirds, this is Cas. Cas, meet Sasquatch and the very lovely Jessica Moore.” Dean winked at the woman and she kicked him playfully. Cas couldn’t help but laugh despite his nerves.

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” he said, sticking a hand out for them to shake. His eyes accidentally met Sam’s and they skittered away nervously.

This was the very picture of a happy family. He didn’t belong here.

“Introductions are done then, ‘cause you all already know me. C’mon, let’s go eat. ‘m starving.” Dean shooed them all off the couch and into the dining room, where Cas had already set out plates at each spot, with sandwiches in the middle of the table and the salad to the side in a punch bowl.

“Wow, Dean, this looks really good,” Jess said as she sat down beside Sam, who was already digging into a sandwich and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, Cas is the magician you should be thanking.” Dean grinned and landed a light swat at Cas’ ass, which made him jerk as his overworked nerves screamed. He had to make serious effort not to glare at Dean, who was looking far too smug to be unaware of it, as they too sat down at the table – Cas with significantly more discomfort.

He caught Sam watching them with a small frown, and looked away again, focusing on his sandwich. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble with Dean’s family. He _liked_ seeing Dean like this, interacting with friends he’d known for years, if not all his life.

But there was nothing he could do when Sam cleared his throat and said, “Dean, can we… have a word?”

Jess shrugged at him as if to say _Brothers; what can you do?_ and continued eating while the two stood up and went to the next room.

Cas smiled back. Time to make some awkward small talk, then.

 

* * *

 

“What didja want to talk about out here? You sure you’re okay leaving Jess to Cas’ charms over there?” Dean quipped when they were out of earshot. He had to wonder if this was something about Dad - Sam had never really gotten over that deathbed pardon, and to be fair Dean didn’t like it either. A quick ‘good job son’ when said son wasn’t even in the room didn’t make up for two or three years of condemning him for daring to go to law school. They’d never talked about it after it happened.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s about Cas.”

Well, that came out of left field. “Cas? What about him?”

Sam’s gaze flickered at the closed door and he looked vaguely guilty. And on the verge of starting a heart-to-heart chick flick moment. What the heck was this about?

“C’mon, spit it out. I’m dying of suspense over here.”

“Okay, well, you remember at the end of last year, when –“

Oh fuck no. Dean cut him off at the pass. “This is nothing like that, Sammy, and you know it.”

The end of last year was a fucking mess. And Sam knew nothing about it, because Dean _told_ him nothing about it. The only thing he had was speculation and whatever he heard when he was eavesdropping on _private_ conversations. He understood the concern, he really did, but this was Dean's private life and _none_ of Sam's business. 

“No, listen to me.” Sam held up his hand and Dean glared. “I know I don’t know everything that happened, but I also know this is starting to look a lot like what I was seeing then. You get yourself someone new, and things go well, but then the arguments start, and it _always_ ends with you getting hurt. You said you were gonna take a break, get things together, and I get that it's not my place to say anything but... You're my brother, and I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Dean ground his teeth to keep from yelling. “I do, okay? This is different.” It _had to be_ different. Dean was better now, wasn’t he? A changed man, and all that. Cas wasn’t anything like those poor sons-(and daughters)-of-bitches who signed up with him back when…

Sam snorted. “Really? Then look me in the eye and tell me you’re both happy right now.” Dean opened his mouth to do exactly that, but Sam continued. “’Cause Cas looks like his dog just died and you were acting way too pleased to see us when we arrived. Look, maybe it was just an argument - I mean, everyone has those - but it was... it was weird, and we both know it, right?”

Well, yeah! Because he’d just spanked Cas in his office and then had to run out and pretend everything was normal. He couldn’t tell Sam that though. TMI!

“What, I’m not allowed to want to see my own brother when he aces all his finals? I dunno if you noticed, but it’s been like three months since you and Jess even set foot in this place.”

But okay, maybe… _maybe_ he could see what Sam was getting at.

Maybe Dean really hadn’t waited long enough before getting back into this type of scene.

He hadn’t exactly asked how Cas was feeling afterwards. God _damn_ him, he hadn’t asked at all – what happened to all that aftercare shit he was supposed to know how to do? What if Cas was actually hurting? Sam didn’t jump on this sort of stuff for no reason. He must have seen something.

And on top of that, Dean hadn’t lied when he said it was still sometimes like he’d never left Alastair’s side. His attitude had changed – thank god – but his taste hadn’t. Cas would’ve been easy prey only six months ago. Sweet wide blue eyes, chapped lips perfect for screaming and sobbing and kissing, and he was so willing and innocent and malleable and…

Fuck. There really was something wrong with him.

At Sam's expectant stare, he finally choked out, "Fine. I'll... I'll be careful this time. No more drunken heartbroken calls at five in the morning to my little brother, okay?" The joke was forced and neither of them laughed.

“I know you think I’ve gone insane,” Sam sighed, shoulders slumping. “I think _I’ve_ gone insane, trying to look out for your love life and all that.”

Dean just nodded. “Yeah, well. It _is_ none of your business.” This time, the smile came a little easier.

“You know how I am. Always keeping an eye out on the new goss," Sam grinned, slapping Dean on the back, some of the weight obviously gone from his shoulders. He was kidding around now, and the frost that had settled had been broken – but not for Dean.

When they walked back into the dining room, he was watching Cas extra carefully.

He was so fucked up.

 

 

By the time it was evening and Jess and Sam were long gone, he’d seen enough.

The way Cas’ eyes darted to his every time he spoke to either Sam or Jess, like he was afraid of doing something wrong. How, when they’d curled up on the couch couple by couple to watch some animal rescue show Samantha loved, Cas had gotten that intent stare that meant he was concentrating far too hard on staying still. It’d happened before, but for the first time Dean realised why: Cas didn’t want to touch him.

He didn’t know how he had missed it. How _had_ he missed it, when it now felt so glaringly obvious?

Cas was just a kid, barely a man considering he’d taken Sam’s offered beer and stood there like a statue waiting for police sirens to go off. A kid who was short on money, desperate for work, ready to do anything to survive. He didn’t actually want to be here, getting fucked and played with by some creepy old businessman. He just needed the cash. And Dean took complete, utter, total advantage of him.

It was clear enough now in the way he could see the cogs turning every time Cas opened the fridge for food, mental calculations still adding up the costs even though Dean had told him not to worry about it. Only last night, Dean had watched as he wandered the house looking so mystified by everything, examining old trinkets and walking barefoot on the carpet like he couldn’t believe he was being allowed to do so. Then, the way his face had changed when he realised Dean wanted to take him to bed for the privilege…

Ugh. The more he thought about it, the more the bile rose in his throat.

What had he done? He was no better than any of the rest of his old club _friends_ , scaring Cas into letting him use whatever toys he wanted, play whatever _games_ he wanted. And Cas, pressured into cooperating and even _initiating_ sex clearly just because he wanted to keep Dean from firing him. Yeah, Dean was just like anyone else still belly-crawling in that sorry excuse of a fetish club. He might as well have brought Cas over to see Alastair himself – _look how great I am, look at how I can crush someone’s spirit and break them over my knee just because I can, I told you I was a dom didn’t I?_

He would’ve punched himself in the face if it could do any good. What had he been thinking, putting that ad in the newspaper in the first place? Sure, there had been the impossibility of going to a club to find someone – in case Alastair’s goons found him again – but in what universe was putting a public notice in the public goddamn local newspaper a suitable alternative? He was sick. He was messed up. He was _looking_ for someone like Cas, someone new that he could pull apart and rebuild from the ground up at his leisure, from the very beginning. He just hadn’t had the guts to admit it.

Not for the first time that night, he looked at the drawer where he’d stashed his flask with far too much temptation.

Cas walked into the room and Dean knocked his glass over.

“Oh, for god’s –“

“Sir! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to –“

He whipped around to face Cas, eyes wild and angry. Jesus, what was he doing here? Why was he calling Dean that? Oh god, this was what he’d made Cas into – some subservient, timid shadow of the being he used to be.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t see this for another second.

“Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning up?” he snapped, pointing back down to the hallway where Cas had emerged without a freaking sound.

“I – “

“Get out!”

“I wanted to see if you were okay, sir, I was –“

Dean’s fury shot up another ten notches. “I said. Get. Out.”

Cas recoiled in honest fear, and disappeared as quickly as he came.

Dean slammed the door and reached for the flask.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Massive thank yous to Book Genius and Musiclover1254, the lovely wonderful betas who got me through this chapter! Any remaining mistakes are my own.

The room was spinning, and Dean just kept feeling worse.

He didn’t remember _why_ he felt so awful any more, of course – that was the whole point of hauling out his stash of drinks – but he kinda knew, vaguely, that it was something big and something about the teenager – eighteen ended in ‘teen’, right? – currently living in his house, and it had made him feel like crap and oh yeah, Sam was there too, maybe…

There was a collar in his hand for some reason. It looked pretty enough. Something told him to throw it out, though. So he moved his hand out of his line of sight and considered that job done.

There was someone standing next to him and, ugh, if the walls weren’t blurry and his eyes didn’t feel like they were still buffering the video footage, he’d have turned to look instead of grunting, “Ngh. Heyyy.”

It was that teenager he was thinking about. Weird. Alcohol wasn’t supposed to make people hallucinate, was it? Oh well.

Ugh, his head was hurting already. He should’ve stopped ages ago, but he knew he was drinking for a reason. And he didn’t feel like giving up yet.

“Our contract says we shouldn’t drink or be under the influence of any drugs,” the teenager said, all petulant. He didn’t really look like a teenager, but Dean’s mind still insisted on calling him one.

“Contract?” he mumbled. His mouth felt slow, and it sounded slurred even to his ears. His hand fumbled for the bottle placed on the floor and he took another swig.

“I don’t think you should have any more.”

“Try’n stop me.”

The bottle disappeared from his hand and he made grabby motions for it, but missed by a mile. Not that he could really bring himself to care.

“Wha’ you doing here? Toldja to leave…” Dean grumbled, some vague memory shaken loose in his head. He had to be hallucinating. Kid wasn’t supposed to be here. Not sure why. He had to close his eyes when the teenager kept moving too fast.

“No. You told me to clean up, and I have.” The words were defiant but the voice sure wasn’t. It had gone all quiet and funny. He felt the bed dip by his side and cracked one eye open to see someone’s back to him, sitting by his side.

Eh. This hallucination wasn’t so bad. Better than seeing some other people he knew. He wasn’t gonna say who, though. Speak of the devil, and all that. See? He might have been drunk, but he still had some sense.

“What’s this?” Cas was holding something up in front of Dean's face. At the same time, whatever Dean had been holding in his other hand was gone.

Oh. Oh crap, yeah, the collar. No, Dean remembered that was a _bad_ thing. He grabbed at it but Cas snatched it away with some odd expression on his face, eyes and mouth open, brows shooting up to his hairline.

“Throw it out,” Dean mumbled, saying whatever sounded right. “Not gonna… not like a dog… ugh, feel sick.”

It disappeared somewhere and that was good as gone for Dean. He slumped back down on the bed and groaned, remembering how much he wanted to sleep. But no, he was supposed to talk to Cas about… something important.  Something he’d been drinking to forget about. Great. Past Dean was so smart. He decided to say so, out loud, to whoever was listening.

He felt the lump by his side fidget and speak. “Did something happen while Sam and Jess were here?”

“Sure,” Dean drawled. He waved his arm out until it hit something that felt like Cas’ side, and tried to pull him in for a hug. It felt like one of the important things he was supposed to say or do. Cas didn’t move an inch, though, so Dean let him go.

“I know you weren’t angry because of me,” he said quietly, and Dean strained through the muffling alcohol-driven fog to hear. “You would have explained what I did wrong, otherwise. You also wouldn’t be drinking.”

Dean laughed to himself. Even this intoxicated, he could tell Cas was trying to convince himself more than anything else.

He watched as Cas picked at the blankets absently, scratching away the fuzzy knots of lint.

“I saw that you were staring at me today, though I don’t know why. It was after Sam spoke to you privately. I wanted to ask, but…”

Cas stopped and looked away, focusing on an empty patch of wall. Dean made himself turn his head to follow the gaze, but there was nothing there.

“You should not have shouted at me like that,” he continued, sounding more resolute this time despite a worried glance towards Dean. Dean watched it all in drunken slow motion. For the first time he noticed Cas’ red-rimmed eyes, even though the spanking was so long ago they should have been fine. “We should have talked to each other. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”

Dean wished his head would clear. He was missing so much, and it always slipped just out of reach whenever he tried to focus.

He heard Cas sigh and felt his own heart clench.

“I should leave. Good night, Dean. I hope you are better in the morning, and that you do not feel too ill.”

Cas looked awkward and stiff with his arms by his side. Dean wanted to laugh but his lips wouldn’t follow his commands. A hand reached for his forehead, but drew away as if Cas had thought better of it in the end.

A minute later, Dean was alone in his room again.

 

 

At ten o’clock the next morning, Dean was still home, busy puking his guts out into the toilet bowl while Cas fretted, rushing to shut the curtains and making glass after glass of Berocca, electrolytes, and orange juice.

This was totally his punishment for what happened last night. That was actually okay with him; he deserved it, after all. But Cas didn’t. Hell, if anything, no matter that Dean was sick as a dog right now, he should have been grovelling at Cas’ feet for forgiveness, dom status be damned.

“Seriously, you don’t have to… you know, run all over the place for me. I’ve had hangovers before.” He tried to grin but the movement made him feel nauseous all over again. “And I still feel like a total ass, you know that, right?”

Cas’ mouth went all pinched. “Yes sir, but please let me help. Won’t you drink this? It’ll rehydrate you.”

“Not really up for being ‘sir’ right now. Just Dean’ll be fine.” It was another glass of some kind of vegetable juice. Dean cringed – ugh, rabbit food – but the guy looked so distressed about it that he took it and chugged it down. God, his head was _pounding_.

“You’re not still going to work, are you? You _did_ call in sick?” If it weren’t for the empty glass he was holding, Cas would’ve been wringing his hands.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Dean groaned as he rested his forehead on the porcelain. No such luck – there were too many sales reports to write, appointments to catch up on, and people to yell at, to have a full sick day. He’d have to go after the hangover wore off.

And he had to apologise properly to Cas. There was no excuse for the way he went off his head last night. So much for being a better dom; he couldn’t even keep himself under control, let alone a whole other person. All anyone had to do was _hint_ about last year and he lost his mind. Poor Sam probably thought his brother had turned into a psychopath.

But god help him, he didn’t have the strength to let Cas go.

He got up off the bathroom floor, brushed his teeth and washed his face in the sink, feeling Cas’ worried gaze every step of the way, then slumped back on the bed. Just a quick nap, then he’d be good to head to the office.

“You up for cuddling with a hungover mess, Cas?” he asked as he held an arm out in invitation for Cas to come closer.

God bless him, he was by Dean’s side in seconds. Dean slung an arm around his body and inhaled the scent of shampoo and soap at the nape of Cas’ neck. How he’d ever found someone so saintly and perfect, he’d never know.

With that thought in mind, it was time to say sorry for being an unforgiveable douchebag.

“You know, last night…”

Cas shuffled closer, head bowed nearly to his chest. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry, Cas. I don’t have any excuses. You know, yelling at you for no reason, kicking you out and not giving any explanation for any of it. Then, getting drunk off my face like that, breaking my own contract. It was a real dick move.” God, why was that so hard to say? It was just the friggin’ truth.

“…Thank you. Will you tell me what happened?”

Dean gritted his teeth and bit down on the first reply that jumped to mind: _Fuck no_. He didn’t want to get into it – heck, it was like tearing out his soul and letting the world see all the most fucked-up parts of it – but… only Cas was here, and of all people, Cas needed to know the most.

So much for taking a nap.

“Yeah. Guess I should,” he murmured, reluctance creeping into his voice. Hangover or not, he really needed another drink for this. “It was about… you know, Alastair again. No surprise, right? Sam just mentioned a few things that happened last year and I kind of got all…” He shrugged, although the motion was awkward with the way they were curled around each other. “I don’t know. All flashbacky.”

“I see.” Cas nodded, all sage and wise. “Then, what happened was not your fault.”

Dean stared at the back of his head, incredulous. “Uh, yeah it was. What universe were _you_ living in?” And which force of said universe thought it would be a good idea to give Cas zero survival instinct? A normal person would be halfway up the street by now. Dean was no longer under any illusions about exactly how bad, how dangerous he was.

Cas shook his head and insisted, “No. You haven’t told me the full story, but I know Alastair hurt you in some way. If something reminded you of a past trauma that he caused, then –“

“ _Hell_ no.” It was louder than either of them expected and Dean jumped at the sound of his own voice, but he barrelled on. “Trauma, my ass. You want to talk about trauma, you talk to all those sorry kids I probably messed up for life. Alastair didn’t do jack shit to me. All he did was show me what kind of monster I really was.”

He hated talking about it, hated the way it felt like he’d been sliced in the stomach every time it even crossed his mind, because _he_ wasn’t the one who’d been hurt by what he did.

The memory hit him full force. Down in that torture chamber – because that was what it _was_ – with Alastair handing him the whip, the knife, the flogger, he couldn’t remember any more. _Show me what you’re made of, grasshopper_ , that slimy voice that crawled on his skin and pushed through his veins like sludge, _Dean the dom, that sure has a nice ring to it. Don’t forget, if you’re not the one holding the knife, you’re the one on the rack._

And even as he thought of how much he hated Bela, _hated_ the way that _screaming bitch_ messed with his head and pissed him off, and how _she asked for this, she knew what she was getting into, she_ … God, there had always been _something_ telling him that it was wrong. That this wasn’t what he signed up for in the slightest when he first walked in, looking for some fun way to feel like he had control again. But Alastair had gotten his hooks in and strapped him down, and all he knew was that he sure as fuck wasn’t a sub – not Alastair’s definition of one. And he was a coward, he’d folded when Alastair offered him a way out, and now he was the one tying people to the rack.

 _They’re weak,_ Alastair’s voice whispering in his ear like he was right there on the bed with them, _and they like it. They beg for it. But you don’t, oh no, you like doing the dance out here with me instead. Isn’t that right, Dean-o?_

He’d never fucked any of them. Never. That made him better than the other scum, right? He had had limits, even down there in that sewage pit of an excuse for a club. He’d even fucking called the police on them, once. He’d…

“D-Dean?”

Cas brought him back to reality. Jesus, he was shaking, his head still felt like someone had taken a chainsaw to his skull, and at some point his arms had locked around Cas so tight it was a wonder the man was still breathing. He let go and flinched back until there was a foot of space between them.

“Dean, wait –“

“You didn’t see me back then, Cas. You don’t know shit.”

Cas’ mouth clamped shut and his eyes were so focused on him, staring and searching for something he couldn’t give, that Dean could have drowned in them.

Finally he spoke. “I know _you_. You’re a good man, and I trust you.”

“You probably shouldn’t, you know. It's been, what, ten days? I should be setting off your ‘creepy’ radar like crazy.”

“You’ve never hurt me,” Cas said, but when Dean opened his mouth to argue he quickly added, “And last night hardly counts. You’re always careful with me, and you make sure I know what I’m doing. You’re paying me to obey your every order, but you still treat me as if everything I do is a gift. It’s more than anyone could ever ask for.”

“Because I look out for you? That’s a right, not a privilege. Tell me you know that,” Dean frowned.

Cas only shrugged, and quickly looked away. Dean wanted to take his shoulders and shake the sense into him.

“That’s not what I meant,” he murmured, then inched closer on the bed, trying so hard to make Dean see a point that he still didn’t get that his brows were wrinkling together. “You look _after_ me. You care about me, and you’re good to me. If I’m the one getting paid for this, shouldn’t I at least be allowed to do the same for you? I want to be good for you.”

Dean fought back a sigh. He knew it was a lost cause: Cas was determined to stay, whether for the job or for its own sake he didn’t know. As for Dean, he already knew he could never bring himself to make Cas leave, no matter how much he _knew_ it was the right thing to do.

They watched each other for a long moment, like two puzzles figuring each other out.

“May I please have a hug?” Cas finally said, eyes turning sad.

He smiled and despite the ache in his chest, the godawful headache, and the tension that felt like it would never leave his bones, he reeled Cas into a tight embrace and revelled in the way the boy in his arms clung back.

 

 

Hours later, after the last report had spat itself out of the printer and Dean had hopped back in his car – with a friendly wave to Mr Adler on the way out, just to prove he had indeed showed up for work (eventually) – the day finally ended.

Thank god, and about time too, because it felt like he was stuck in Groundhog Day for a second there.

Truth be told, he was amazed at how fast they’d gone back to some semblance of normalcy, after the chaos of that morning and the late hour he’d returned home. They ate dinner together as usual, a new stir fry recipe Cas had found in one of the many health food books Sam had unsubtly ‘accidentally’ left behind. Not that there was anything wrong with eating like a carnivore, in Dean's opinion.

Sprawled facedown like a dead body on the couch, he heard Cas start up the dishwasher and call out, “I’m just getting something, I’ll only be a minute!”

He was still fantasising about his boy in a maid costume when Cas padded back across the carpet and – suddenly – knelt at his feet.

“What…?” Dean sat up and swung his feet back onto the floor, stunned.

Cas’ spine was one glorious curved line, shoulders back in perfect posture as he bowed his head. Held out in his hands was a thin black leather loop, about an inch wide, completed by the metal ring at the throat and a silver buckle.

It was the collar.

“Cas,” he breathed, “How did you find this?”

Cas was positively shaking, though with anticipation or anxiety Dean wasn’t sure any more. “You said you wanted to throw it away, but…”

“But you didn’t want me to,” he completed the sentence, head spinning. He didn’t even remember saying that, but he’d blacked out the majority of the night after he’d started drinking. What else had he said but couldn’t remember?

If he never touched a drop of it again, it would still be too soon.

He took the collar from Cas’ outstretched hands and opened the latch, turning it in his fingers. The thought of it around Cas’ neck, an irrefutable symbol of ownership, had never completely left his mind.  But ever since he’d walked out of the shop with it, there had been the shadow of guilt, of wondering if this was going too far.

There was no guilt now. Cas was _choosing_ this, and _wanted_ to belong to Dean.

As he leaned forward and threaded the collar around the bowed arch of Cas’ neck, he could feel a pulse thrumming beneath his fingertips, though he didn’t know which of them it belonged to. This was something major, almost terrifying in its intensity. A tangible sign of Cas’ trust – of a belief in Dean that Dean didn’t even have in himself.

He closed the buckle and tilted Cas’ chin up, smiling at the soft huff of breath that he could feel brush over his hand.

“You look beautiful,” he said, and truly, Cas did – with his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked, shy at the compliment; the black band that circled his neck; and the ring that sat delicately at the base of his throat and bobbed as he swallowed. Dean leaned down for a kiss, and ran his tongue, light, over Cas’ lips as he drew away.

Cas’ shoulders relaxed and Dean drew his head into his lap, feeling soft hair beneath his fingers. Not for the first time that day, he wondered if Cas was right. Maybe this really could be good, for both of them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you again to Book Genius and Musiclover1254, my flawless betas without whom this chapter would not exist! You give the best feedback and all the good bits of this are thanks to you. 
> 
> Any remaining mistakes are my own.

 

 

* * *

 

Cas didn’t remember his day off until he reached the living room and saw the note on the table.

He lay on the couch for a long time, holding the small square of memo paper above his head. Dean’s neat handwriting was all in capitals, the initial letter of each sentence a little larger than the rest.

_Cas –_

_You can take the collar off. Have a good day and relax. You’ve earned it._

It had confused him for a few minutes at first - Take the collar off? But Dean had only put it on him last night! Did that mean Dean didn’t…? - until he remembered the terms of his contract.

A whole day to himself.

Instead of being pleased, he only felt… weird. Restless, twitchy, and then ashamed for missing Dean’s company. After fiddling with the buckle behind his neck, he put the collar down on the table with the note, and turned on the couch until he was facing the cushions, his back to the world at large.

There had to be something wrong with him. Maybe being broke and desperate had finally made him crack, and now it was some kind of self-imposed Stockholm Syndrome that made him so eager to… to do all this. To beg for it when Dean spanked him bright red, or fucked him with all manner of different toys, or tied him up and took his virginity.

The way he’d screamed for more and squirmed in Dean’s arms like he’d been made for it; the way he’d relished every blow and the way the impact made his skin sting and sing… he couldn’t forget it and he couldn’t stop the utter _shame_ that bubbled in his stomach every time the memory sprung to mind.

He’d asked for all that. _He_ was the one who’d gone to Dean’s study on Sunday morning, after all, and happily lay himself over the man’s lap, and _gotten off_ on being punished like a misbehaving child. It had hurt significantly, yes, and throughout all of lunch he could feel it, but for some inexplicable reason he had enjoyed it _immensely_ and…

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. It didn’t make any sense and it only made him feel worse.

It also didn’t help that he was possibly _missing_ Dean right now.

No. He was going to forget all about this, and that was that. For the rest of the day, he would stay here and read books. He was going to take his mind off it all, then he would make certain not to bother Dean in the evening, and tomorrow morning everything would surely be back to normal again.

 

 

When Dean came home that night with a bag of takeout for dinner, Cas was still lounging in the living room, having lost all track of time.

"Cas, have you been here all day?" The voice that brought him back to reality was stern and worried, and Cas almost leapt out of his skin in his rush to stand up and make himself presentable.

"I - um - sorry," he stammered, "I should have left the house, I didn't mean to... I can go now, if you want?" Oh he'd been stupid, stupid, stupid! This day off wasn't for his benefit alone - of course Dean would want his house to himself for a few hours at least, without having to worry over the other resident for once.

"No, seriously, stay as long as you want," Dean shook his head, though his eyebrows were still up somewhere in the stratosphere. "I just thought... Uh. You aren't getting stir-crazy or anything like that?"

If 'stir-crazy' was the word for this, perhaps --

"No," Cas answered after a pause, a fraction too long.

Dean put the food down on the table, plastic bags rustling, and walked closer. His face was knitted in faint worry, a tension around his eyes. "Are you sure you're doing okay?"

"I have no reason to be otherwise." The stiff response sounded awkward even to his own ears. There was no need for Dean to know every detail of his mood.

Dean hummed, a noncommittal sound, and led Cas to sit back down on the couch. "So you've really been here all day?"

Cas nodded reluctantly, curled his arms around his knees and stared down at the carpet. A normal person would have taken the day to meet friends, catch up on hobbies, and the like. That was what weekends and holidays were for, after all. But truth be told, he had neither real friends nor real hobbies. As for his monetary problems, well, no one had bought anything he’d put online for sale. He had no reason to leave the house at all.

Dean made a face, a half-frown that Cas now recognised all too well as a sign of gearing up for another serious conversation.

“You know it’s not healthy to stay cooped up in here, right? Just because you’re working here doesn’t mean you should drop everything else. You need to keep up with your own life and all that. I thought you’d be itching to get out for a few hours at least.”

This felt like the virginity conversation – which, Cas conceded, _had_ been necessary if somewhat humiliating – all over again. The last thing he wanted was to get into another argument with Dean – not so soon after the last one, and not when he was feeling so… off.

“I just didn’t feel like it,” he ended up answering, hoping the matter wouldn’t be pushed any further.

Dean watched Cas with a considering eye for a moment and nodded, “Okay, yeah. It’s been a long few days for you. I get that.”

It felt like that should have been the end of the conversation, but Dean didn’t drop his gaze. Cas felt like the truth was written all over his face – he’d felt messed up ever since he woke up alone in Dean’s bed that morning, and he knew there was something wrong with him and how much he _liked_ doing all these _thing_ s _,_ and maybe he was even reconsidering _working here_ , but surely they both knew that was an impossibility and an impracticality when the only problem was up in his head, and...

Eventually, he folded.

“You were right,” he began, staring down at his palms, laid flat in his lap. “I don’t know if I’m doing okay, as you said. This morning…”

He sighed. This wasn’t how he wanted to start. But then, he hadn’t been planning on telling Dean about this at all.

“Well, actually, the whole weekend. Maybe since Friday. I think there’s something wrong with me, Dean.”

Dean’s face steeled so quickly Cas was taken aback, his entire demeanour shifting into such caution and self-hatred that it – inexplicably – made Cas’ heart freeze up. “I hurt you.”

“No,” he said immediately. No, not in the slightest – and he hated the way Dean looked, horrified and angry, not _at_ him but _for_ him. “No, that’s not it at all. You didn’t.”

“Then what else could it be? Cas, if I…”

“I said you didn’t!” he cut in. “And besides, if you _didn’t_ want to hurt me, why did you hit me like that? What other end did you possibly mean to achieve? You couldn’t have known that I, I would…”

He growled in helpless frustration and turned away. Even as the words came out he realised how true they were; Dean always insisted on how much he didn’t want to hurt him, and always constantly checked how he felt, but there was no way he could have anticipated that Cas would actually enjoy the pain of the whole thing. If he really cared, why would he have even suggested…?

But that wasn’t the whole story. The next words that left Cas’ mouth were the hardest to force out.

“I asked you to do all of it and I _enjoyed_ it,” he confessed, as if to a crime. “I liked it when you… when you pretended to punish me, and the way it stung, and _everything_. It was only spanking but if it hurt more, I… I don’t know if I would care. Then I practically begged you to let me wear that collar. That’s why there’s something wrong with me. What kind of person _likes_ that?”

Dean had already said plenty about his past, which should have been warning enough. And now there was a sign that all of Dean’s concern was just for show – because ‘care’ usually excluded causing pain purely for fun. For anyone else this would have been the last straw, even if they’d been naïve or desperate enough to stay as long as Cas already had. But no one else would be as unhinged as he obviously was.

Dean took an audibly deep breath beside him and let the air out through his nose. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” The look on Cas’ face was significantly unimpressed, but he went on. “I’m serious. You’re not going off the deep end or anything. There are plenty of people who like some pain when they play their blanket hornpipes. Provided it’s all controlled and consensual, it can be awesome, like turning the amp up to eleven.”

Apparently not fazed by the total bewilderment on Cas’ face – because there were far too many euphemisms in that speech – Dean went on. “As for everything else, that’s my fault. I mean, all this… non-fun hurting that’s happening right now,” he gestured towards Cas, “That’s not supposed to happen. Ever. There’s a whole heap of stuff I should have explained, and a lot more that I should have done.”

His face looked bleak, and it was easy enough to read his thoughts; all the regret and fury were painted on as clear as day, no matter how carefree he had sounded only moments earlier.

Cas was torn between yelling at Dean to stop making everything _his fault_ , and simply throwing up his arms and letting the man take all the blame as he wished. He didn’t know what kind of explanation could possibly make sense of all this, but if Dean thought he had one, then who was Cas to argue?

“Stuff like what, then?” he finally asked, a hint of defiance in his voice.

Dean raked his hand through his hair. “Wow, where do we even start?” he laughed to himself humourlessly before turning serious again. “First of all, the way you’re feeling. You remember everything you’ve read about aftercare, that kind of thing?”

It took a second but Cas nodded, unsure where this was going.

“Well… that’s what _didn’t_ happen on Sunday. Especially not after lunch and then, uh, me.” The grimace on his face clearly said everything he thought about that particular event. “You didn’t get the chance to wake up from subbing and come back to reality. That’s completely on me, and I’m sorry. Honest to god and swear on my soul, it’s never going to happen again. And if I ever fuck up and forget, you’re gonna tell me, aren’t you?” Dean winked, at odds with the seriousness of the conversation. He’d lightened the mood but there was still no mistaking the dark look in his eyes.

But Cas simply nodded. It made some sense, he supposed. In any case, the thought of more contact with Dean even after whatever they’d be doing had ended… it gave Cas butterflies and not in an unpleasant way.

But even so…

“That can’t be the whole explanation. I felt alright afterwards, and it’s been two days,” he frowned.

“You’re new to this. Might be a bit worse the first time around?” Dean offered. “In any case, there’s nothing wrong with… you know, getting your rocks off on some nipple clamps, flogging, bow chicka wow wow.”

Cas felt heat rise to his face in an instant. “We didn’t – There were no – ”

“Maybe next time, huh?” Dean leered jokingly. Cas folded his arms sternly and tried not to look like he was pouting, but it only made his dom laugh.

Dean patted his knee lightly. “Anyway, how about that? Make things a little clearer?”

Cas thought about it for a moment. He still had other questions, and he wasn’t entirely convinced this was only a side effect of lacking hugs and kisses after a light spanking. Perhaps he’d wait and see, he decided. After all, with the way Dean acted like this was completely normal and there truly _was_ nothing wrong with him for liking their games, Cas was feeling somewhat comforted already.

“Yes. Thank you, sir – um, Dean.”

Dean sighed heavily and Cas knew he’d made a mistake.

“That’s another thing,” he said, reaching over to pick up the collar from where it’d been almost forgotten on the coffee table. “I’m gonna take a not-so-wild guess and say that you have no idea what to call me, huh?”

That was… true. He was beginning to tire of needing to guess how to address Dean and when. In fact, if he just gave up and avoided using Dean’s name or title altogether, he was sure Dean wouldn’t blame him. His preferences changed constantly and the difference between his name and ‘sir’ seemed arbitrary. It messed with his mind and he wished Dean could just pick one and _stick with it_.

He watched as Dean turned the collar between his hands, the metal ring glinting in the lamplight.

“Okay,” Dean said, apparently having come to a decision. “Guess I’ve gotta talk to you about this too. Might as well, while we’re here.”

“You mean the collar?”

“Yeah. It’s… kind of a big deal.”

“Oh.” Cas had understood that already, from the way Dean had worried over it in his drunken state and the careful way he’d buckled it at his neck. Perhaps it was another one of Dean’s kinks, and – in all likelihood - one that Cas would doubtlessly suddenly discover that he enjoyed being on the receiving end of.

“We don’t usually give one out so early,” Dean shrugged, trying and failing to seem nonchalant. “I mean, as far as I know. Back in the day, I would’ve been lucky if I kept someone for more than a few days, let alone long enough for a collar.”

Something about that sparked vague worry in Cas, but he pushed it aside and waited for Dean to continue.

“Anyway, it, uh… It’s a sign of ownership. Not in a weird way, I’m not gonna sell you off at the local market or anything, okay?” Dean said, rushing to quell inexistent worries in Cas. “It means you’re my sub. You belong to me, basically.”

A shiver ran up his spine. He thought of kneeling at Dean’s feet, of offering it up to his… his owner - his Master? – and letting himself be collared like a pet. So that was what it had meant to Dean.

“Sometimes there’s a whole ceremony about it and everything. Uh, I know about one that happened a little while ago, actually, but Charlie and her girl only did it after something like two years. I’m not saying we gotta do that, I mean, it’s up to you, but this – what we did, the one that you were wearing – it’s more… I mean, if things work out, we could always…”

It was Dean’s turn to flush bright red.

Something occurred to Cas – like a switch that’d gone on in his brain. “So what they had was a wedding ring, but this is like an engagement ring,” he guessed. The analogy didn’t quite fit – no one proposed to someone they’d met just over a week ago, let alone a person who was effectively a prostitute they’d hired – but Dean did say it was probably a little too early, and with the ceremony he’d mentioned…

“You could say that, yeah,” Dean nodded, smiling.

A rock suddenly settled itself in the pit of Cas’ stomach. What happened to only staying with Dean for a few months at the most? ‘Charlie’ had been with her partner for two whole years. Was Dean thinking of something like that? Yes, Cas enjoyed his new job far more than he’d expected, and he appreciated Dean’s company, but their entire time frame had shifted completely!

This wasn’t the time to panic. He took a deep breath through his nose, as unnoticeably as he could manage, and focused on keeping himself still.

It couldn’t be helped. He hadn’t known what he was getting himself into – it was no wonder Dean had been reluctant to give him the collar, now that he knew exactly how significant it was – but it was through no fault of his own. Dean simply hadn’t explained it to him until now. With that reasoning, if after a few months he collected his final payslip and never saw Dean again, then…

He stopped that thought in its tracks.

“When do you want me to wear it?” he asked after he’d chased the idea away, buried deep and hopefully for good.

Dean’s relief at the casual acceptance was almost tangible. He rubbed his hands together and refocused on Cas. “Whenever I’m home and you’re not taking a break like today. That’ll be our routine unless I say otherwise. When I get back from work, you’ll bring the collar to me and I’ll put it on you.”

Cas nodded – so that was why Dean told him to remove it today. It was simple enough. Essentially, he’d be wearing it during his paid hours. He could even think of it as something of a work uniform. “And when do I call you sir and not Dean?”

“Well, that’s where the collar comes in. Whenever you wear it, you are my sub and you address me as such. And if it’s off, then you call me Dean, and we’re equals.”

Except for the part where Cas would still be cleaning Dean’s house, he wanted to cut in. But it was fair enough – _more_ than fair, really – and everything felt clearer already.

“So, that all good with you?” Dean asked, tilting his head down until their eyes met. Cas nodded in confirmation.

“Great.” His smile was as bright as the sun and he looped an arm around Cas’ shoulder to pull him into a half-hug. “Let’s go have some food, then. Dunno about you, but I’m starving.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to the loveliest betas in the world, Book Genius and Musiclover1254 <3

Cas nearly had a heart attack when he stepped into the shower the next morning, and _immediately_ ran straight down to the living room to check for Dean’s note, wrapped in a towel.

There was no other possible explanation for the overly realistic peach-coloured dildo currently suction-cupped to the shower wall. It certainly hadn’t been there yesterday and to be quite honest it looked _ridiculous_ , which Cas noted with a slightly hysterical giggle. And it was also… very large.

At least the note helped him to make some sense of it.

_Cas –_

_Hope you liked the surprise in the shower!_ – here it was punctuated with a simple smiley face that somehow perfectly conveyed Dean’s lecherous grin – _From now on, I want you to practice while I’m gone, at least three times a week. Equipment’s in the closet bottom drawer. Text me when you do it._

Beside the square of paper was a prepaid SIM card, which Cas took with a breath of relief - and embarrassment, because he couldn’t even afford a few extra texts, and Dean had obviously already noticed the state of his finances. He went back to his room to dig out his phone, and pried open the back cover to install the tiny plastic chip. There, all done. It took some fiddling but he managed to make it work, and tapped out a text to the number at the bottom of the note.

_Hello Dean. Thank you for the phone card. I am going to take a shower now._

He blushed as he reread it. Dean would understand what it meant.

It only took a second before a reply buzzed onto the screen: _good boy. have fun ;)_

Now that he’d told Dean what he was going to do, it was time to actually do it. He walked back to the bathroom on slightly shaky legs, trying to imagine how he was supposed to get… _that_ inside him. The more he thought about it, the more it felt like his stomach was turning itself into knots, nervous anticipation in his veins.

As it turned out, the earlier shock had caused his imagination to conjure up some huge monstrosity of a dildo. In truth, it wasn’t absurdly large or anything like that – a little intimidating in both girth and length, yes, but not impossible. He stood naked in front of the shower and looked at it with almost scientific curiosity, before he turned the water on and stepped inside, careful to dodge it like it was some kind of animal.

That was when he spotted the travel-sized bottle of lube in the soap dish. Dean had, apparently, prepared for _everything_.

He ignored it and reached for the soap, then the shampoo, pretending he was here for the completely normal, completely nonsexual shower he’d originally counted on having.

It was a good attempt, at least for the first few moments, until he bumped into the shower’s latest attachment and remembered what he was here to do. The water, fortunately, had done wonders to ease the tension still sitting in his shoulders, leftover from yesterday’s discussions. He was wet and pleasantly warm, and the feeling of the water on his skin was almost hypnotic in its constant pattering. Then, when the thought of Dean reading that little text on his phone strayed into Cas’ mind…

Needless to say, it wasn’t difficult to get himself in the mood for this at all.

Before long, he was half-hard and relaxed enough to get started. It took a bit of coordination to click the bottle of lube open with one hand, but he managed to smear it over his fingers and push them inside without losing too much in the water. His hair dripped over his eyes as he leaned against the cold tiled wall, stretching himself as quickly as he could without pain.

It was difficult, keeping himself on that narrow precipice between comfortable arousal and an orgasm – he wasn’t allowed to come, he reminded himself over and over, no matter how torturous that thought felt.

The dildo was a little too high up on the wall for him to reach comfortably. He stood on his toes, one hand propped on the opposite wall to keep his balance, and eased himself onto the hard plastic. His breath hitched as it slipped inside – god it was big, larger than it had looked sitting not-so-innocently on the wall. His legs were shaking from the effort of holding himself up as he tried to sink further down, feeling stretched almost beyond belief.

All it took was one small slip on the tiles and Cas choked out a shocked scream as the dildo seated itself firmly inside him, up to the hilt. His muscles burned with the unexpected intrusion but it was nothing compared to the low buzz of pleasure where it rubbed into his prostate with every twitch of movement.

He gasped and leaned back on the shower wall, cold tiles a sharp contrast to the heat crawling over his skin, then started to move – only in small, uneven thrusts which were all he could manage before the sensation threatened to overwhelm him completely.

After a few minutes he was already lost in the sensation, hot water washing sweat away as quickly as it came, pushing himself back and forth on the fake cock, moaning with reckless abandon as his hands scrabbled for purchase on the tiles.

He desperately wished he could touch himself, wrap his hand around his cock and tip himself into the pleasure. But he couldn’t, because Dean hadn’t said so.

He thought he was being careful, alternating between fucking himself on the dildo and taking deep breaths to keep his control, focusing on anything except the water hitting his cock. But that wasn’t enough, because with an uncontrollable burst of pleasure that took him completely off-guard…

He came. With wide eyes he watched as it swirled down the drain, until the guilt sank in.

Oh, no no no. What was Dean going to say?

Tears sprang to his eyes with neither warning nor permission, and he gasped and squirmed as he tugged himself away from the dildo – it _hurt_ now, with not enough lube and no arousal to ease the way, only regret and shame filling his chest. How could he have let that happen? Dean was going to be so disappointed – maybe even angry, because this was one of his _rules_ and Cas had broken it without a second thought.

He turned the water off and grabbed the towel off the rack, burying his face in the soft cotton. He was going to be in so much trouble.

 

 

By six o’clock, the house was completely spotless. Cas had made sure of that, dusting every corner of every room, vacuuming every inch of the carpet, arranging every visible element into perfect order. He’d packed almost all of his cleaning work for the next week into the few hours he had left before Dean’s return.

Dinner was set out neatly on the table – only one plate, as he’d eaten earlier and his slight nerves wouldn’t allow him to have more than a small serving – while he waited at the door, collar in hand.

There was the telltale sound of the garage door rumbling closed, then footsteps approached the door. Cas’ heart suddenly jumped into his throat – how was he supposed to tell Dean what he did?

The door clicked open. He flinched in surprise but indulged in the soft kiss Dean pressed into his hair.

“Missed you today,” Dean smiled into the strands. “Do you have your collar?”

Cas held it up and watched Dean’s face with a reverent gaze as it was fastened around his neck, a soft pressure against his skin that refused to be ignored. He bowed his head and didn’t answer, the guilt eating at him even more now that Dean was here with him. It felt like lying, letting Dean compliment him and treat him like he’d been good, while Cas knew perfectly well what had happened in the shower that morning.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to say a word. Dean took one look at the utterly pristine state of the house on the way from front door to dining room, and turned to Cas. “So, any reason why this place looks like you accidentally broke a Ming vase? Should I be getting my checkbook out for a million dollar loan?”

The hint of genuine concern underneath Dean’s jokes made him melt, and then feel worse.

“I... broke one of your rules today, sir,” he stammered, staring down at his feet. “This morning in the shower.”

“Is that right?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “What did you do?”

He wished the ground would swallow him up. “I made myself come while I was practicing for you. It was an accident. I’m sorry, sir.”

Dean sighed and he sounded so disappointed Cas could barely stand it. His voice was measured and calm as he said, “Okay. You did a good job, telling me about it yourself. But you know I expect you to follow the rules I set, which means you have to be punished. Have you already eaten?”

Cas nodded, still staring down at the ground.

“Good. Go to the study and wait for me. I want you naked and kneeling beside the desk, alright?”

“Yes sir.” He felt like he should have bowed or something, going by how uncharacteristically formal everything felt, but simply hurried out of the room to wait in the office as he was told. Somewhere along the line his guilt had morphed into excitement – the last time he was ‘punished’, he’d been taken over Dean’s knee and spanked. Resulting embarrassment aside, it had… felt undeniably good. Perhaps this might be more of the same?

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Cas discovered that spanking wasn’t in the cards at all.

“Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if you _enjoyed_ it,” Dean had quipped after a shy question about what the evening would entail. “You broke one of our rules, so don’t think you’re getting rewarded for it.”

Cas pouted but it had no effect; Dean was deadly serious about this punishment. A stern look was more than enough to put him back in his place, and he squirmed in shame when he saw how unimpressed Dean was.

“Go and sit on the chair,” he ordered. Cas rushed to obey, settling down in the leather seat with wide eyes when he saw the coiled rope Dean brought out.

“Like I said,” Dean continued as he walked closer, “I’m proud of you for being honest with me. But a rule is a rule, and it’s very clear right now that you still need to learn how to obey me.”

Cas hung his head low, and sat still while Dean measured out the length of rope in his hands before he walked out of sight, doing something behind the chair. Cas was usually good, wasn’t he? Dean had said so before in the past, but that was… that was before Cas had ever disobeyed him as blatantly as he had today.

He shivered and his breaths turned a fraction heavier as the rope wrapped around his arms, elbows tight beside his ribs. “What…?”

Dean’s finger pressed against his lower lip. “Now’s not the time for you to talk. Lean forward for me.”

Cas did so and felt the rope cross around his wrists, tied snug. He tugged at the rope experimentally, heart thudding in his throat when he felt how secure they were – despite the slight amount of give, there was still no way for him to twist out of the knot.

“Open your mouth.”

He let his jaw drop open and saw the edge of Dean’s hand out of the corner of his eyes, before something invaded his mouth, rubbery and heavy on his tongue. With a muffled groan, he jerked and twisted his head, searching Dean’s face for an explanation. Something cinched tight around the back of his neck and he moaned into the gag, head tipping back into an open palm.

Running his tongue over the surface he could feel a plastic imitation of the head of a cock, and the recognition made his cock jump. He tried to ask but nothing came out except an incomprehensible groan. It filled his mouth completely, leaving barely enough room for his tongue to move, but a few experimental sucks showed it wasn’t quite enough to make him gag.

 “All good?” Dean asked, looking down at Cas from above. “Feeling okay?” Cas’ eyes skittered across his face but he collected himself and mumbled an affirmative.

Perhaps Dean wanted him to practice _this_ , too. That would make a good ‘punishment’. He smiled inwardly at the thought and focused on the smooth weight in his mouth, tonguing the fake vein running down the underside.

Something jagged and cold was pressed into his hand – a set of keys. “Shake them twice for yellow, and drop them for red. Got it?”

Cas nodded and wrapped his fingers tight around the metal edges, stopping any sound like his life depended on it.

Dean moved around to his front, still holding the last length of rope. He crouched in front of Cas and began wrapping it around his legs, first looped taut around his thighs and then his ankles. There was no chance of getting out on his own now, not with the way he was inescapably bound in this chair.

He felt like he could hear the blood rushing through his veins, his heart working overtime in wait of what Dean might do next. It was terrifying in the best way possible, completely at one man’s mercy. Maybe there would be nipple clamps next – he remembered Dean mentioning those, and they sounded like they were vicious enough not to be classified as ‘fun’. He trusted Dean not to _really_ hurt him, so perhaps…

Dean stood up and glanced down at Cas’ slowly hardening cock, which only made him shiver and sit up a little straighter in excitement.

When he reached over to stroke Cas into full hardness, Cas bucked in the chair and groaned, squirming and wishing he could beg for more. After the heady anticipation of the last half-hour and the feeling of the rough fibres of rope sliding against bare skin, it didn’t take long before he was on the edge. He could feel his cock twitch in Dean’s hand – all he needed was just a little more, just a few more strokes and…

Dean’s touch disappeared and Cas almost screamed.

He whined behind his gag, but Dean only took another step back. Please, please please – he was so close, he wanted to _come_ but he was trapped and helpless under the tight bonds.

“This is your punishment, Cas. You’re gonna sit here and learn how to be patient…” Dean said, voice stern again, “…until _I_ tell you when you can come.”

Cas shook his head and moaned, cock aching in need. No, Dean couldn’t be that cruel, could he?

The man now sitting behind the desk was completely unaffected by Cas’ protests. “Sorry, but you brought this on yourself. You need to think about what you did and learn your lesson.”

Cas whimpered, ashamed. Dean was right, this _was_ his fault – he hadn’t been careful enough in the shower, he’d had an orgasm without permission and he’d been so _bad_. But please, he just wanted to come right now, he needed it like oxygen; he’d happily take any other punishment but this.

But Dean was completely ignoring him now.

It took a long few minutes for him to settle down, chest still heaving from being mere seconds away from coming before every pleasure was denied. He sat in muted frustration as Dean typed away at the computer, apparently completely absorbed in his work.

Was Dean really going to just leave him like this? He was _very_ sorry now, he truly was, and he would tell Dean if only he hadn’t been gagged and left out of reach like this. It was clear Dean didn’t want to hear from him right now, but… If only he was allowed to touch, to show Dean his regret through action instead of words.

He moaned to try to capture Dean’s attention, in hope that perhaps he could offer that alternative. But there was no response and he was left, still guilty and ashamed, feeling silly for even trying. His master had already decided on his punishment and here he was, trying to get out of it. No wonder Dean was unhappy, he reprimanded himself sharply, if this was how his submissive was acting.

More time passed and there was still never any reaction from Dean, as if Cas wasn’t even in the room. As if he’d been so bad he didn’t matter anymore. The rule he’d broken was truly important and he realised that now, he _did_ , he recognised that Dean had trusted him and he’d broken that trust, and… if he didn’t please Dean anymore, then what was he good for?

The thought was far too much like a punch to the chest, and Cas found himself suddenly on the verge of tears. Another whimper escaped past the gag but it wasn’t a bid for attention.

Not for the first time, he felt like a child being sent into timeout. Dean’s words had had exactly that effect, but in the throes of near-orgasm he’d almost missed them until now.

He _had_ thought about what he did, and he knew it was wrong. When he’d been told to practice with toys during the week, it hadn’t been permission to treat the toys like a replacement of _Dean_. It was supposed to be a way to learn to serve Dean better, not take all the pleasure for himself. It’d been selfish.

He was sorry and all he wanted was to show Dean that.

Before long he found the tears he’d been holding back were now dripping from the end of his chin. He tried to hide them by shaking them away, but with his hands bound behind his back…

He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered. This was stupid, he was being truly childish now – there was too much emotion running through his veins and he just wanted _Dean_ , not for sex or common pleasure but for comfort now. He wanted Dean to know that he could be _good_ again, that he could be trusted to keep his promises and follow the rules.

He heard Dean’s chair squeak with movement and turned his head away, trying to hide the humiliating tears leaking from his eyes.

But there was no judgement in the way Dean now stood by his side and eased the gag from Cas’ mouth, relieving the previously unnoticed cramp in his jaw. A soft cloth wiped away the saliva that had escaped his mouth and then he felt warm, dry hands travel down the sides of his arms, soothing and calm as he hiccupped through the last of his tears.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” he half-sobbed through a breath as soon as he gathered himself enough to form words. “I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ll be good.”

“I know you will, baby.” Dean’s arms wrapped him in a hug and he sniffled into the crook of his master’s shoulder, taking comfort in the closeness. “You’ve been good already. My good boy. Come on, let’s get you untied.”

There was a quick-release in the knots around Cas’ legs and arms – one tug at each and the ropes fell away, leaving him free to cling to Dean’s neck like a limpet. He wiped the last of his tears away and cleared his throat, trying and failing to compose himself.

“’s alright, take as long as you need,” Dean cooed, one hand rubbing circles around Cas’ back. Cas felt like a toddler throwing a tantrum but there was no mistaking the unconditional care in that low velvet voice.

“Thank you, sir,” he mumbled.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dean said, and the smile was audible in his voice. “How about a bath and then bed?”

Cas floundered at the thought. “Your bed?” he asked meekly.

“Yeah -- well. Our bed.”

He really liked the sound of that.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks as always to my wonderful betas <3

For once, Cas woke up before Dean had left for work.

It was ridiculously early, and usually he’d still be fast asleep and dead to the world, but today was different. He had more than enough energy to roll around on the luxuriously large bed, practically swimming in the silk sheets while Dean got dressed. It was a very pleasant way to start his morning indeed, watching Dean’s muscles flex under his undershirt as he buttoned his shirt and pulled on a jacket, all sharp lines and perfect tailoring.

Cas’ new line of work had well and truly corrupted him; he had no trouble imagining the way Dean might bend him over a desk and use him as a lunch break treat, or how the suave sales executive might firmly persuade him to sample a few new _products_ , or…

“I see you’re looking forward to your day off,” Dean grinned at him through the mirror.

Cas froze. Day off?

“Thursday, remember?” Dean prompted gently. “Tell me you’ve got plans or something. You know it’s not healthy to live in your work all the time.”

“I… don’t really, um,” Cas began, mind blank. He still hadn’t explained to Dean exactly how _alone_ he was in the world – no friends, no family to speak of, and not even any buyers of his meagre collection of second-hand furniture. If he had it his way, he would never _need_ to explain.

“Even if it’s just coffee or a good old walk in the park. As long as you’re away from here for a while, it’ll do you some good. Seriously. Especially after last night.”

Cas caught the flicker in Dean’s eyes and frowned. The last time he’d seen that look, it had led to drunkenness and dark conversations he didn’t particularly wish to repeat.

“Dean, that isn’t… Last night was…” He tried to get the right words but they wouldn’t come. “You were perfectly within your rights. I broke a rule and you punished me. Then you made sure I was feeling well. I wouldn’t lie about getting hurt, I promise.”

Dean’s face twisted. It was clear he was having… regrets, but he didn’t push the matter so neither did Cas.

“Well, better get going,” Dean said with a heavy sigh as he glanced at the clock, “I’ll see you around, hey?”

“Yes, Dean.” His previous energy having dissipated already, he snuggled back into his pillow. He had no idea what he would be doing for the day; the only thing that had consumed his life before meeting Dean was seeking out a source of income, surviving each day and trying to get himself together for the future. Now that all those questions had been answered…

Dean’s suggestions were as good as anything else. He was sure his bus pass still had some money on it.

When he heard the front door click shut, he crawled out of bed to get ready for the day. The next few hours lay out like a barren wasteland in front of him, but surely he would find some way to pass the time.

 

 

It was sitting in the park, on the lawn under a sprawling oak tree, that he recognised her.

Anna.

It was the chance meeting of a lifetime. She must have spotted him the same time that he saw her. It was like slow motion – their eyes locked, her face shifted from confusion to recognition to the broadest smile he’d ever seen on her face, and… the next thing he knew, he was knocked flat on the ground by a squealing mass of redheaded joy.

“Castiel!” she laughed as she clutched at his shoulders, dotting kisses to his forehead. “I thought you’d disappeared off the planet! Did you know I was only at your apartment yesterday afternoon, and not one of your neighbours have seen you in an entire fortnight?”

Cas could only stare at her in bewilderment. What was she _doing_ here? The last he’d heard, she’d left for the southern hemisphere with a young surfer boyfriend in tow, never to return. She was one of few siblings who actually benefitted from their uncle’s generosity, crossing the globe with her success, though to his knowledge she’d never finished paying the interest part of her debt.

“You… you came looking for me?” The thought made warmth blossom in his chest.

“What kind of sister do you think I am?” she asked with a glare, smacking his shoulder lightly. “I heard you were graduating, and we all know how _that_ turns out in this family.”

It had been a fairly long time since he graduated, actually, so Anna’s concern was baffling, as much as he appreciated it. He felt himself smile as she disentangled herself from the hug, neatening the collar of his threadbare trench coat and looking him up and down.

“Where is your boyfriend?” he asked curiously, looking around to see if she was accompanied. “Is he still in New Zealand?”

Anna snorted and shook her head. “He’s sleeping off a migraine back at the hotel. And, actually…” She held up her left hand and Cas’ eyes widened at the sight of a gold ring sitting on her finger. “He’s not really my boyfriend anymore.”

“What…? Oh. Congratulations,” Cas breathed, staring at the ring in wonder. It was beautiful in its simplicity, a sparkling diamond inset into the gold band. “You never told me.”

Anna sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, but…”

Though Anna had trailed off, he understood. She didn’t want to associate herself with their family, not with so many disagreements and so much bitterness, and it was inevitable that she lost contact with Castiel as well as all their other relatives. He knew well enough that no matter how much she cared about the apparent plight of her younger siblings – fighting for hours with their eldest brothers over their inarguably cold methods of upbringing – there had been no way of getting away from her debt except to skip the country, to live somewhere well outside Zachariah’s circle of influence. Cas had no idea how she was able to return now, though.

Even so, the revelation of her marriage stung a little. “It’s fine,” he lied, before adding honestly, “I’m glad you’ve found happiness.”

“Me too.” The corner of Anna’s mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Now, how about you? What’ve you been doing, and why haven’t you been in home in two weeks?”

“I…” Cas fumbled for an explanation. “I just got a new job. I do housework for someone who lives not far from here.”

“Okay,” Anna frowned. “So, you’ve been cleaning their house and that means… you go camping for two weeks?”

Cas swallowed. His eyes flickered up as if the sky was his last hope for throwing a suitable white lie down to him out of mercy. There was no need for Anna to know about Dean, and certainly not for her to know exactly what Cas’ employment entailed.

“I’m beginning to think I should be worried,” she said, voice low when Cas didn’t reply.

The last thing he needed was for Anna to get caught in his affairs. “It’s nothing. He has a large house and it takes me a long time to do my work, so sometimes he lets me stay the night,” he said blindly, even as he realised the words didn’t make sense. There was no reason for a housekeeper to stay the night, especially not when said housekeeper lived ‘not far from here’. But his mouth wouldn’t stop talking. “It’s far more comfortable than my apartment, and he pays me well. It’s not difficult work and he cares for me. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

No matter how long it had been since they’d seen each other, apparently nothing erased the fact that she still knew all of his tells. She stared at him for a moment, analysing, and murmured, “Castiel. How desperate are you for money?”

When he didn’t answer, she tried again. “Tell me the truth. I can help you.” The look of pity on her face was unbearable. Where such worry had come from, he had no idea. She’d had no trouble abandoning him along with the rest of the family, when push came to shove, and had obviously been quite happy to live halfway across the world without leaving a single point of contact. And she chose _now_ to come back into his life – their lives? Had she gone looking for their other brothers and sisters too?

Cas’ heart jumped into his throat. “Whatever you’re thinking, Anna, it isn’t…”

“You’re a terrible liar. It’s _exactly_ what I’m thinking, isn’t it?” Anna interrupted, her furious glare trained squarely on Cas. “Is this all just to pay Zachariah back? You know he’ll only ask for more later. It’s not worth it. Don’t put yourself through this.”

“I need to leave,” he lied, putting the conversation to an abrupt end. “I have to catch the next bus.”

 

* * *

 

The whole way home, Dean wanted nothing more than to go Rambo on this entire traffic jam’s ass. Fortunately, he wasn’t a psychopath – or at least, not that much of one – and he actually did have some measure of self-control.

Whoever said bad luck came in threes had been a liar. More accurately, bad luck came in threes, went for the money shot every time, didn’t bother to reciprocate, then used up all the hot water in the shower afterwards. This doubling of commute time was exactly he needed, after the world’s longest day at work with his boss breathing down his neck and one deal falling through after another.

To top it off, Cas was firmly out of bounds tonight, which meant there was no one and nothing for him to look forward to at home. He wasn’t the type of asshole to pull Cas out of a break day just to have someone to fuck, because that was _gross_ , but he couldn’t deny he’d gotten far too used to returning home to a sweet face that looked happy to see him.

As much as he knew he was the one who told Cas to get some air in the first place, there was still an inexplicable wave of disappointment when he found the house empty.

He tossed his keys into the bowl and dug his phone out of his pocket to ring for some takeaway. It was going to be a boring night tonight, with the same kind of dinner he’d had every night before Cas turned up – beer, noodles straight out of the paper box, feet up on the coffee table and crappy reality TV to fill the silence.

 

 

It was nearly nine thirty when he began to worry about Cas. A lot.

He cursed himself, over and over, for pacing up and down the hall like this. He didn’t know what to think - to panic or not to panic? If it was anyone else out at this time, he was certain he wouldn’t be anywhere near as worked up as this.

But here was the thing: Only two days ago – hell, only this _morning_ – Cas had had no idea what to do, let alone where to go, on his breaks. And all of a sudden, he was staying out this late?

Okay, it wasn’t _late_ exactly, but the poor boy got flustered over beer for god’s sake. Dean couldn’t even imagine him going to a party, let alone clubbing with a fake ID.

He felt like an overprotective parent. Cas was eighteen, not eight. Nine thirty in the evening was nothing. Maybe he just found something to do - or some _one_ to do, his mind supplied with no small tinge of jealousy, stupid as it was. There was heaps of stuff Cas could be doing right now – perfectly safe, normal stuff. Going out with his normal friends, for example. Dinner with his mom. Whatever Cas did in his own hours was outside the contract and absolutely none of Dean’s business.

And it wasn’t even ten o’clock, so the odds that he was out doing his own thing far outweighed the chance that he was in trouble… right?

Dean shook his head and put the phone down when he realised he’d unconsciously picked it up, thumb hovering over Cas’ speed dial.

It would be weird to call Cas, anyway. Employer-employee boundaries, and all that. Cas had a life outside this house, and that was exactly how it should be. Dean had to remember that. Just because he looked like some kind of homeless puppy on Tuesday didn’t mean he had nothing to do on Thursday either. _And_ , just because Dean was having attachment issues and bonding way too much with his houseboy-for-hire _didn’t_ mean Cas felt the same way. At all. In fact, if he called right now, he’d only be intruding where he wasn’t wanted. Who in the world liked to be reminded about work on the weekends?

He still couldn’t help the worry eating at the pit of his stomach, though.

Maybe he should call after all. He picked up the phone again and before he could reconsider for the fifth time, he pressed Cas’ number.

Three rings, and Cas picked up.

“Hello, Dean.”

The relief that washed over him was like a tidal wave. There had been a shiver in Cas’ voice but god, it was still so good to hear it. “Cas? Man, I was --” No, saying he was freaking out might sound creepy. “Where the hell are you? Have you been gone all day?”

“I might have done something stupid,” Cas’ voice was crackling under the background noise – wind, trees… the blare of a truck horn as it sped past.

“Where _are_ you?” Dean repeated, concern kicking back up. It was freezing outside, and it sounded like Cas was on the side of a road. If something happened, if someone…

“At a bus stop. I got lost.” Cas sounded put-out and sulky.

God, Dean was on a freaking emotional rollercoaster right now. It was a bus stop, that was all. Jesus. No kidnappers or murderers or any of the host of things that had immediately sprung to mind. He’d been watching way too many soapies.

“Oh, great.” It came out sounding worse than he intended, but he’d just survived impending cardiac arrest, so he could be forgiven. “Where are you? You need a lift?”

There was a long pause. “I don’t want to bother you,” Cas gave as his non-answer, voice small.

So, that was a yes. Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair and huffed in mixed relief and frustration. Why didn’t Cas call him sooner? “Just tell me where you are.”

Then, he was back in the Impala and heading towards the highway. Time to go find his wayward houseboy.

 

 

Cas piled himself into the car, teeth chattering as he wrapped the thin trench coat tighter around his body. Dean watched him for all of two seconds before he gave into his pity and tossed the poor guy his own coat.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Cas repeated, shivering, while Dean felt like a total asshole.

“Shoulda called me,” Dean grunted, uncomfortable with how guilty he felt for Cas’ own stupid decision-making process. “You think I’d rather drive you home or find myself with an icicle in the morning?”

Cas was quiet as he buckled the seatbelt over his chest. Dean grabbed his hand without a second thought – jeez, his skin was freezing – and held it up to the vent blasting warm air. But he let go as quickly as he had latched on, embarrassed by the impulsive motion and the way Cas stared at him like he was the Second Coming.

“Just get yourself warm before you catch a cold,” he grumbled as he put the car back into a gear and pulled back onto the road. “What were you doing out here, anyway?”

“I missed my stop.” It was Cas’ turn to look embarrassed. “I was considering the merits of debt evasion and became distracted.”

“Uh, debt evasion?” That wasn’t suspicious at all.

“I went out as you instructed, to buy coffee and walk in the park. My sister found me there today.” It was a total non sequitur and Dean was beginning to wonder if Cas’ head was still screwed on right.

“And you owe her money?” he guessed, trying to connect the dots.

“No, I…” Cas sighed, dropping his hands back in his lap from where he’d been holding them in front of the heater. “The debt is for someone else. I assure you it’s nothing illegal.”

“So what is it?” It came out harsher than he intended, as had every other word he’d said to Cas today. Wow, things were going great. He tried to soften his voice. “If you need help paying something off, I can always give you some cash. You know, get you out. If…”

Cas’ wide eyes flickered to his and he bit down on his lip. They both turned away and focused on the road sprawling out ahead of them, the headlights of other cars flashing past.

“Or not,” Dean amended.

“I couldn’t ask that of you.”

They drove on in an awkward silence for miles, until Dean was tempted to turn on the radio just for something to tap his fingers on the steering wheel to. Before he could reach over, though, Cas spoke up again.

“I think my sister knows what kind of work I do for you.” He was practically squirming in his seat, resolutely not looking at Dean as he said the words. “I didn’t tell her. I said I do housework for you, but she knows I haven’t been home for almost two weeks, and…”

Dean swallowed. “You don’t have to keep working here if you’re not comfortable with it, Cas. You know that, right?”

“No,” Cas said quickly, “I _do_ want to work for you. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

This was Dean’s fault. Cas wouldn’t have been in this situation if he hadn’t been such a goddamn pervert. He should’ve held off when he first saw how inexperienced the guy was, not… freaking _coerce_ him into sex work. All of this wouldn’t have happened, and Cas wouldn’t have to worry about his family discovering something as simple as what he did for a living. If any fallout happened between Cas and his sister, the blame would be firmly on Dean’s shoulders.

The guilt sat in his stomach like a boulder.

“Seriously, Cas, I don’t want to make things hard with you and your family. If you just wanna do housework or something…”

Cas shook his head and Dean caught the flicker of panic in his eyes. “No, Dean. I can still work for you. It won’t cause any trouble. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I brought it up. Don’t worry, it doesn’t – It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not what I meant.” God, talking to Cas was impossible. He wasn’t trying to _fire_ Cas; he wouldn’t have dreamt of it in a million years. He just. Wanted to make sure things were going to be okay. “I’m not going to cut your pay just because your sister knows about us, okay? I know it’s difficult. All I’m saying is, we can sort it out. We sorted it out with Sam, and we can sort it out with her.”

He caught Cas’ nod out of the corner of his eye, and relaxed a little. Everything would be fine. He’d fix it.

Cas was still staring out the window when he spoke up, voice small. “May I return to my own apartment for tonight? I promise I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

Dean pressed his lips together, quashing his unease. No surprise that Cas wanted to be alone tonight. “Sure thing. It’s Thursday, after all. I’ll drop you off.”

“Thank you.”

They dropped off into silence again when they hit the familiar streets of suburbia. Later, as Cas walked up the concrete path to his apartment block with Dean watching from the Impala idling on the curb outside, it was like they’d become strangers to each other all over again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks as always to my betas <3

There was part of Dean – the same part that could never quite believe Cas really existed, and wasn’t some figment of his imagination – that was absolutely astonished to see the young man waiting for him that evening, exactly as promised.

On the surface, it looked like yesterday had never happened. Cas greeted him at the door, head bowed as Dean fastened the collar around his neck, and they ate dinner together as always. But there was something about the tense set of his shoulders, the slightest moment of hesitation before he followed an order, that made Dean reconsider his plans for the night.

Or maybe he was just being paranoid, given his own reservations after last night.

The moment Cas finished loading the dishwasher, Dean hauled him over to the couch. Time for another long-ass emotional discussion, in his books. Even if it turned out to be nothing, he’d learnt well enough by now that bottling stuff up and never working it out was no way to solve a problem. He wouldn’t admit it under threat of death or torture, but he still knew it was true.

But instead of taking the seat next to him, Dean could only watch with increasingly wide eyes as Cas slid down to his knees on the carpet between Dean’s legs.

“Uh…” Dean’s mouth dropped half-open as he stared, struck dumb at the sight.

Cas’ hands came up to rest on Dean’s thighs, pressure so soft it was almost like he wasn’t touching him at all. His eyes flickered up and their eyes locked for a long moment, Dean’s heart hammering in his chest.

This… wasn’t exactly what he’d expected.

Cas’ gaze fluttered down to the now obvious tenting in Dean’s pants, and the sight of a pink tongue darting out to run over slightly chapped lips made something in his brain short-circuit for a good few seconds. The memory of the time Cas had done this in the shower, both of them naked with wet skin sliding over skin, with Dean guiding his movements…

No, this wasn’t right. This was goddamn weird – not Cas’ eagerness or obedience but something _else_ – and he was going to get to the bottom of it before they went a single step further.

Cas was only a half-second from mouthing at the fabric between him and Dean’s cock when Dean pushed him back firmly, one hand on his shoulder.

His eyes immediately shot back to Dean’s and they had such an open, trusting look of confusion that Dean’s heart felt like it was about to give up right then and there. Make no mistake, it was _killing_ Dean to stop this in its tracks, but he tugged Cas up from the carpet and dusted off his knees.

“You wanna tell me what this is all about?” he asked, looking Cas up and down before pulling the boy into his lap. It was a little awkward, with their faces only inches from each other, but he laced his fingers on Cas’ back to keep him close. He rubbed one hand soothingly – he hoped – in circles around Cas’ frozen-up shoulders.

Cas scrunched up his face, and Dean couldn’t help but find that cute. He looked to be on the verge of speaking until – without warning –

He mashed their faces together, tongue insisted as it ran across Dean’s lips, edging for a way inside. It was far from a smooth effort, awkward and distinctly amateur in the way Cas was trying to pry Dean’s mouth open and wrestle for control.

Now, _that_ was not acceptable.

Dean pulled their mouths apart with a firm grip on the back of Cas’ collar, with his best stern face. “Hope you’re not forgetting who’s calling the shots here,” he said warningly.

“I’m sorry sir,” Cas gulped and looked away, guilt and embarrassment obvious in the unhappy twist of his mouth – which, unavoidably, Dean was having a hard time looking away from.

“We’re not doing a thing until you tell me what’s going on,” he continued, “You’re acting weird and we both know it. Is this about something that happened last night?” Cas seemed more than eager enough for them to get on like usual, but it was no wonder Dean was reluctant, no matter how much he wanted to see his perfect boy sprawled out beneath him and begging for it. How could he do a thing when he had no clue what Cas’ headspace was like right now? He was _technically_ a dirty old john with a hired lover but that didn’t mean he had to act like one.

Meanwhile, Cas’ enthusiasm deflated like a popped balloon.  He squirmed under the watchful gaze until finally, bright blue eyes met his, with such a look of utter devotion that Dean was taken aback for more than just a moment.

“I want to serve you,” he said after some hesitation, his voice rough and pitched low, “I want to make you happy and I want to forget everything else. You make me feel useful and _good_ and…”

That was when Cas’ resolve wavered and his words began to sound like they had to be forced out of his throat.

“…and I want to remember what that’s like,” he finished with a breath that shuddered from the bottom of his chest. “I swear I’ll tell you, but… please not right now?”

Dean pulled him in closer, until Cas’ head was tucked neatly under his chin. He didn’t have the foggiest idea what happened after Cas went home, but just hearing this was like having splinters shoved into his heartstrings. It was a complete overreaction, undeniably soppy and probably a bit creepy to boot, but he’d gotten way too attached to Cas way too quickly, and all he wanted was to fix this. He was supposed to be taking _care_ of Cas, god damn it, and instead all he’d done was fuck up Cas’ family and take advantage of how much the guy really needed money right now.

But helping Cas forget all about the whole mess, and letting him get lost in something else, if only for a little while? That _definitely_ sounded like something Dean could do.

…That was, as long as he ignored the fact that he was just keeping on with the pattern of taking advantage of each and every weak point he could get his claws into.

He pushed the thought out of his mind and focused back on Cas, slipping both hands under the hem of his shirt. “Then tell me you want this. Tell me you want me to work you over so hard you’re sore for a week and the only thing you can think about is being allowed to come. Don’t think I’ll be going easy on you tonight.”

Cas shuddered under his touch and squirmed in his lap until the warm body in his arms was seated directly over his groin. His words, breathy and sweet – “Yes, sir, yes _please_ …” – went straight to Dean’s dick, cutting past the cloud of cautious distance that had built between them.

“I’m gonna turn your brain to mush, and you’ll love every moment of it,” he grinned, one last goofy moment between them before he snapped back into sobriety. “You’re staying here. Shut the curtains and take your clothes off. Wait for me to come back.”

“Yes, sir.” Cas untangled himself from Dean’s lap and got to work immediately, all trace of his earlier hesitation gone. Dean stayed to watch for just an extra moment as Cas pulled his shirt up over his head, revealing a slim chest and the tiny dark mole beside one nipple that he secretly adored.

That was enough gawking – he’d have plenty of time for that later. He tugged Cas back down for a quick kiss, smiling at the little sound of surprise, then made a beeline straight for the stash of goodies in the master bedroom.

It was hard not to let the guilt creep up on him as he browsed his… rather _extensive_ collection, now that he was looking at it. There were boxes and boxes of toys – gags, vibrators of all kinds, more than a few clamps and cuffs, and the usual plain old dildos – all shoved in half-neat stacks at the back of his closet, just waiting for Cas to stumble upon. And that wasn’t even including the other neat stuff lying around the house: belts, laundry pegs, chains and rope in the garage...

The only thing he could think about was Cas fitted out in all this stuff, and even though it turned him on like nothing else, there was still that hiss of a voice in the back of his head, whispering _you’re one messed up creep, preying on him when you know he’s only looking for comfort and the only reason he’s here is because he has no other choice._

Lucky for Dean, he was learning to switch it off pretty fast. Cas wanted this, he reassured himself. He wasn’t the only one enjoying it, which made it _okay_.

Cas was probably getting bored, waiting in the living room. Dean grabbed a few things and headed back out.

 

 

This was the best view: standing over a naked Cas as he crawled on hands and knees, hips swaying and tiny gasps escaping his mouth with every movement, courtesy of the thick plug currently crammed inside him.

Dean grinned to himself at the memory of fitting that in, because even with Cas’ conscientious prep work, the plastic had been just a little too big to slip inside comfortably the first time around. The image of that boy with his face pressed into the carpet, ass up in the air with legs spread and toes curling as Dean pressed the plug inside, inch by slow inch… it wasn’t something he would be forgetting any time soon.

He tugged lightly at the leash joined to Cas’ collar, watching as Cas jerked in surprise and cautiously made his way towards Dean, completely blind thanks to the tie wrapped around his eyes. It was the ultimate sign of trust, letting Dean lead him wherever he pleased without being able to see the path. Dean loved it, revelled in it, and longed to be able to do it forever.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just Cas’ ass that was getting uncomfortable – every step forward on his knees was a little more laboured than the last, and Dean knew he was getting close to his limits.

“C’mon, just a little further. Over to the bed, and then you’ll be done,” he coaxed, drifting his palm over Cas’ cheek.

Cas answered with a small “Yes, sir,” and continued on as Dean drew away, guided only by the pull at the front of his collar. Dean could see he was getting breathless now, not from physical exertion but the constant jostling of the plug, deep inside. His cock was at standing at full attention now, and Dean couldn’t imagine the amount of effort that must have gone into ignoring it.

The mattress squeaked as he sat down on the bed, still reeling Cas in by the leash, until the man had crawled between his spread knees. Just like before, on the living room couch. He tilted Cas’ chin up with two fingers and unzipped his pants with the other hand, heart skipping a beat when he noticed Cas’ tongue flicking out over his lips in anticipation.

“Such a good pet, Cas. My perfect little boy,” he murmured, running his fingertips across Cas’ lower lip. “Open your mouth for me.”

He’d seen a lot of hot stuff in his time, but nothing would ever be quite like the sight of his cock at the edge of Cas’ parted lips. And then the feeling of that warm, wet mouth sinking around him and _sucking_ …

So much for turning Cas’ brain to mush – Dean’s own felt like it had already melted into useless overstimulated goop.

He forced himself to hold his hips down as Cas began to bob his head down on Dean’s cock of his own accord, running his tongue across the sensitive vein along the underside and licking at the slit at every upwards stroke. Exactly as Dean had taught him. Fuck, Cas was perfect.

Dean reached down to curl a hand around the back of Cas’ head, and slowly – taking care not to go too deep or fast – began to thrust, until he was fucking Cas’ mouth. Every tiny sound that Cas tried to make, little moans and huffing breaths, hummed deep in his throat and caught where Dean could feel the sounds reverb through his cock.

Too soon, he had to stop and hold Cas still, fighting off his imminent orgasm.

“ ‘m coming, Cas,” he breathed, struggling to keep his voice under control. “You’re gonna – ngh – swallow it for me like a good boy, aren’t you?”

Cas, the little fucking hero sent straight down from the heavens for Dean, like something pulled out of his best and craziest dreams… he just moaned around the thick cock in his mouth and swallowed Dean down even further, choking on the length and not even pausing.

Jesus Christ in heaven. That was it for him; he came and he came hard with his cock pressed to the back of Cas’ throat, feeling every moment of Cas’ shock as his throat constricted and it seemed almost like he couldn’t take it all, right up until he gulped it down, leaving only the smallest drops of come still sitting on his lips.

Dean drew him up for a kiss before he even realised he was doing it, pulling Cas in and tasting himself on that perfect little tongue as Cas whimpered and kissed him back with an almost wild urgency.

It was torture to end the kiss there, untangling himself from Cas, but the next part would be even better.

With a grin and absolutely zero warning for Cas, Dean tossed the boy over onto the bed and lay him out like a banquet. He tore off his clothes and pounced, attacking Cas with light nips across his collarbone and stretching his arms up above his head with one hand tight around slim wrists.

In return, Cas let out the most delightful moan he’d ever heard and tried to wrap his legs around Dean’s waist, but he batted them away and growled into Cas’ ear. “No touching, kiddo. That’s my job.”

But he was running out of hands to hold Cas down – and he was not, not, _not_ going to think about what a thrill that was, having someone give over control so utterly and willingly – which meant he had to lean over to the bedside drawer to dig up the rope and handcuffs he’d stored away earlier.

It was obvious that Cas had a talent for obeying orders, both spoken and unspoken, when Dean saw his hands were still crossed neatly above his head. He reached up and clicked the handcuffs shut around one wrist, then drew the chain around the closest bar on the headboard before locking the other cuff in place too.

It made a pretty picture – Cas, blindfolded and still so trusting, laid out on the bed with his hands tied and his legs spread wide open.

Dean could have easily lost himself in just staring, until Cas’ hips jerked restlessly under him and he remembered the poor boy hadn’t had a chance to come yet. He must’ve been getting desperate, Dean mused as he grabbed a pillow from the side of the bed. Well, that would just make this part even better.

 “Hips up,” he ordered as he lifted himself off Cas for a second. As soon as Cas obeyed, Dean shoved the pillow under his ass and pushed his knees up towards his chest, exposing the flared base of the plug. He wanted to touch, wanted to twist it around and make Cas moan, but… that would come later.

First things first. He looped the rope around Cas’ knees, tying each to the headboard with knotted catches to keep the cord from tightening in a struggle. Because, as obedient as Cas could be… Dean was expecting more than a little helpless flailing to come out of this particular adventure.

He ran a hand down the length of one smooth thigh, smirking at Cas’ repressed shudder when he flicked a nail against the bottom of the plug. Cas’ sorely neglected erection was dripping over his stomach now, bent in half as he was in this position. Dean watched for a while, easing the plug in and out with leisurely movements that made Cas grunt and squirm, wondering idly if the boy tied to his bed would be able to come from that alone. It was an interesting thought.

After only a few minutes of this treatment, Cas’ squirming turned into full-blown struggling and he begged, “Please, sir, please let me… please touch me.”

Music to Dean’s ears.

“Need to learn to be patient, Cas. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he soothed as he wrapped a fist tight around Cas’ cock, until his grip served just as much to stave off Cas’ orgasm as it did to take him even closer to the edge. He reached for the next set of toys at hand: cruel-looking metal clamps, exactly as he’d promised Cas in the previous days.

That was just another item on the list of reasons Cas was some kind of utterly perfect hallucination created just for Dean; the latent masochism, the discovery that Cas _liked_ the occasional spark of pain to go with his pleasure, if it was done right. And Dean was _certain_ he knew how to do exactly that.

He laid one hand across Cas’ chest to keep him in place, and Cas must have realised what was coming because each breath suddenly came a little faster. If it wasn’t technically impossible, Dean could have sworn he could even feel the rabbit-fast heartbeat picking up under Cas’ ribs, excitement tangible in the way Cas gripped the bars on the headboard a little tighter.

“You ready, baby boy?” he asked. But he didn’t wait for an answer – he just clipped them straight on, and chuckled as Cas screamed and arched straight off the bed. The second clamp earned the same reaction, the sudden spike of agony making him wail and struggle. But, as Dean knew well, the real fun would be when those clamps came _off._

“Hurts,” Cas gasped, head shaking from side to side. “Sir, it _hurts_.”

“Yeah, it sure does.” Dean grinned and ran his hands down Cas’ ribs, waiting for him to ride out the waves of pain. “You wanna give me a color?”

It took a second, a moment of silence filled with Cas’ tattered breathing and a hitch that sounded almost like a sob, but the answer came. “Green.”

Dean nodded, though Cas couldn’t see it, and stroked a hand through soft, mussed brown hair. “Good. That’s good.” The pain certainly did seem to do something for Cas, going by how hard his cock was right now, standing at attention between his long bound legs. “Think you can take a few more?”

Cas mouthed something inaudible, apparently having lost his voice, and nodded even as he squirmed in the ropes. That was a little too much ambiguity for Dean, he decided, so he reached down and flicked one of the clamps – making Cas scream and struggle even more. And because he was feeling like a sadistic bastard, Dean jerked Cas’ cock a few times too, adding to the exquisite mix of warring pleasure and pain on Cas’ face.

“Tell me in words, Cas. Out loud.”

“If… if it would please you, sir,” Cas answered, so perfect and sweet, the words barely coherent as he fought to get them out between moans. Dean couldn’t help it; he had to lean down for another kiss after hearing that.

“Mm. Maybe next time, when you’re honest about how much you want it,” he shrugged casually, letting out a deep chuckle when he caught the abject frustration that flashed across Cas’ face.

He traced his fingers around Cas’ nipples, earning a small cry that only turned into another helpless scream as he moved on to pull the plug out of Cas’ ass, twisting and moving in small thrusts as he went. He could tell Cas was starting to lose it, after all the teasing that seemed to lead nowhere.

Time to make use of Cas’ position, all trussed up for easy access with his hole just _begging_ to be filled. Dean smacked it once with two fingers and sat back to watch as Cas wailed and tilted his ass up for more.

“God, you’re hot,” he laughed as he lined himself up, then pushed inside with slow, torturous care. The plug had done its job in keeping Cas just loose enough to slide in without much resistance, but one light flick to the clamps pinching into Cas’ nipples was enough to make him jerk and tighten up immediately.

“Oof,” Dean grunted half-jokingly, “You like that, huh, baby boy?”

Cas could only whine and wriggle his hips in response, and Dean took that as a definite _yes_.

He held onto Cas’ thighs for leverage, tight enough to leave fingerprint bruises for the morning – which, going by the tiny moan and whimpered _please, sir, yes_ from beneath him, Cas definitely liked – and began to piston his hips, in and out until each thrust turned forceful and punishing.

And fuck did Cas like it.

It was the god of all feedback loops – every one of Cas’ moans and strangled pleas for more fed Dean’s own pleasure like a direct IV line, until each thrust was so fierce Cas was sent up the mattress a few inches, the bed creaked, and the headboard bumped against the wall. At some point he tore the clamps off, and the resulting howl was so delicious Dean wished he’d put a few more on the boy after all. It went on and on until finally, with sparks flying behind his eyes, Dean came buried deep inside Cas’ ass.

It took him a second to recover, and when he did, he found himself sprawled on top of Cas, having evidently still had the presence of mind to keep most of his weight off by holding himself up on his elbows. Nice to know it was an automatic instinct now, not to crush Cas under his weight by accident.

However, Dean’s ‘instinct’ hadn’t saved their stomachs from being more-or-less glued together by Cas’ come.

Cas squirmed underneath him, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, sir.”

Dean had to laugh at that.

 

 

One warm bath later, with Cas’ nipples soothed and stiff muscles well on the way to recovery, and the collar now laid away on the bathroom counter, Dean decided it was probably time to go back to that promised conversation.

“Think you’re up for telling me what happened yesterday?” he prodded gently as he rinsed the last of the shampoo out of Cas’ hair. The suds dissolved into the rest of the bubbles in the water, some vanilla-scented concoction he’d discovered at the back of the bathroom cabinet – probably a long-forgotten gift from an old colleague.

Cas ran his fingers through the bubbles for a while, looking every part like a small, lost child. It shocked Dean for a moment – he’d almost forgotten how _young_ Cas really was.

“There’s kind of a lot,” Cas answered, staring down at his knees where they poked out of the water. “My sister, Anna, she knows I’m working for you. I didn’t think she would tell the rest of the family because we’re all… estranged at the moment, but last night she called me again, and - ”

Cas paused and took a breath. Dean’s heart had sunken back into that now-familiar worry, that he was ruining Cas’ whole life with this job.

“I should start again,” he sighed. “Each of us – my siblings and I – have to leave home as soon as we graduate high school. My uncle lends money to us so we can start our new lives, usually just enough to cover the gap between our other loans and the total of what we need, but his interest rates are… exorbitant, as Anna has informed me.

“Anna left home immediately before me, and she never paid her debt in full – only what she felt she owed, which was the original amount and some interest. I’d always thought she moved out of the country because she wanted nothing more to do with the family, but it was because my uncle began sending debt collectors after her. By the time _I_ was being told to leave, he said he’d already lost all trust in us.

“But I was seventeen. I wasn’t old enough to apply for any other loans without a guarantor, and there was no one to do that for me, so he was my only hope. I couldn’t pay for everything with a job bussing tables.” Cas shrunk down on himself, with a laser focus on the bubbly bath water that didn’t fool Dean one bit. “So in the end, he gave me the money. But it’s been impossible to get enough money for him, with the interest and the original amount both being so high. I thought I’d be able to study and work at the same time to pay him back, but in the end… it didn’t work out.”

“And… that’s why you’re working here?” Dean asked, unable to hold himself back any longer. “’Cause this asshole is going to pull some Russian Mafia moves on you if you don’t cough it up?” He honestly didn’t know what he was expecting – after all, there weren’t many kids Cas’ age who’d take this kind of job for _kicks_ – but Jesus, that was pretty rough. And what was his role in all this? He wasn’t much better than Cas’ uncle. It was like taking advantage of the kid was the new national sport or something.

Cas sighed and began picking at the sponge in his hands, a nervous tic he’d developed in the last ten minutes. “I don’t understand what that means,” he eventually said with a pinched frown directed at Dean. “But my sister wants to bring him to court for extorting money through illegal means. She wants me to testify. She knows I’m working here and she says… she says it would bring weight to her case.”

Fuck. Yep, new national sport – Dean was right on the money with that one.

“So, uh,” he coughed. “Do you _want_ to testify? It’ll get you out of the debt, at least. With the kind of tricks your uncle’s been playing, I’m pretty sure you two will be getting a stack of money out of it.”

But… shit. He realised as soon as the words came out of his mouth. If Cas _did_ say anything, then his whole family really _would_ know about what happened almost every night in Dean’s house. And Anna, apparently, didn’t give a damn about it.

“I don’t know what to do,” Cas admitted, face crumpling. “I just want someone to tell me _what to do._ ”

If that didn’t make Dean’s heart break, he’d be a stone-cold asshole. He pulled Cas in for a hug, water be damned, and held on tight as Cas clung back with everything he had.

“We’ll fix it, Cas. I promise. I’m gonna fix it for you.”


	13. Author's Note

A/N:

First of all, a million thank-yous to everyone who has read this fic and stuck with me for the entire journey! And a million sincerest apologies for disappearing off the face of the planet for half a year.

I'm here to announce that, unfortunately, **I will not be continuing this** **story**.

Unfortunately, over the past few months, I've not only been completely overwhelmed by schoolwork and real life, but I've also fallen a bit out of love with Supernatural as a whole. I didn't have the time or motivation to continue it, and as much as I've tried to get into writing it again now that I'm on a bit of a break, it seems my muse has completely left me. However, I have absolutely LOVED writing it and getting all of your feedback, and it's probably the biggest piece of fiction I've ever tried to write. I would have given up much, much earlier if it weren't for the incredibly flattering and kind comments people have left here, and I cannot thank you enough for the support and love! But unfortunately the magic just isn't there for me any more.

For those who are curious though - I always imagined a happy ending for Dean and Cas. I don't think it could or should have ended any other way. :)

Again, many apologies for leaving you all hanging, and thank you so so so much for reading!


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